#one day I will rant about this song for ages

[jacarandaaaas]

STARS DONT SHINE THEY BUUUURRRRRN AND THE CONSTELLATIONS SHIFT

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … princess going digital! ♡

bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts. well, he thought he did. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your instagram was adorable and demure. photo dumps and stories of your daily iced coffee in your little manicured hand. you had pinterest boards too — jj had seen you scrolling through endless pictures of clothes on his bed and asked questions. you helped him make his own account so he could find new ideas on how to customise his board. he hasn’t opened the app since, but it seemed like it made you happy so he couldn’t find it in himself to delete it off his lockscreen.

he followed you on twitter too. he knew he did because he saw your tweets all up and down his timeline when he would be scrolling late at night trying to find porn. tweets about the cashier that was rude to you, or about that one song you just can’t get out your head.

he thought he’d covered all bases with you. he liked to be in tune with everything you were doing — and maybe that was wrong for a best friend to want, but the two of you were close! it only felt right. it may also have something to do with the fact he’s head over heels for you.

you were laying on your front on his bed. contrasting so sweetly against the boyishness of his room with your cute little hello kitty shirt and denim skirt — epitome of girly girl in such an unfitting space. it made him smile, and he nearly forgot to tune into what you were saying.

you were ranting about your mother again, the woman making it her mission to constantly bring you down.

“seriously jayj, if you saw the way she spoke to me...” you mutter with a frowny little pout as your fingers tap away at the screen, assumably responding to a text.

“i have seen the way she speaks to you. the lady is a nut job, no offence.” jj leans back slightly, tossing a balled up pair of socks from his laundry in the air and catching it.

“her texts are even worse.” you huff.

“s’alright. i’ll be your mommy.” he quips as you’re distracted by pulling up the correct screen.

“jj.” you tsk before turning your phone around. “look!” you whine, and he knows he’s meant to be looking at the texts displayed infront of him. but with undiagnosed adhd, jj couldn’t help but find his focus on the notification sliding down at the top of the screen. the twitter icon, notifying someone reposted your tweet — however, it was accompanied with another username he’d never seen before. an account ran by you assumably, that he no idea about.

“huh… yeah, no yeah. she’s batshit.” jj shakes himself off as he takes mental note of the username, leaning back and hoping you don’t ask any questions knowing he didn’t read the texts at all. you seem none the wiser, continuing to complain and go about your business. that evening, it’s time for you to head home. jj squeezes you at the doorway, cups your cheek and tells you that if your mom is giving you grief, you can come right on back. it seemed to comfort the pout off your face, and you skip off.

now it’s time to sate his curiosity.

when jj gets into bed that night, he types the username into twitter. it takes a few tries to get the specific spelling right, as it had been a few hours and slipped his mind — but finally, the account filled his screen.

your age is attached to the account, yet no name. there was definitely a sense of anonymity— to the point where you hadn’t even told him about it. he considered doing the right thing and clicking off — but jj didn’t always do the right thing, and this was one of those times. the first thing he notices is how clearly you the account is. the header, the profile picture — even the font in your bio was so… you. all curlicues and girly and pink — it was undeniably his best friend.

and then he scrolls.

‘want my best friend 2 hold me down n use me so bad :(’ a tweet from 3 days ago. the blonde sits up in bed, blinking at the screen. that was him, right? eagerly, he continues his scrolling — finding endless tweets about your sexual desires, fantasies, anecdotes about jj himself. it didn’t take much longer of scrolling until he comes across a video — his face heating and crotch stiffening at the familiarity of it all. it was your bedroom, and your face was cropped out. that one pair of pink panties he occasionally caught peeks of beneath your skirt hang off the ankle of your knee high clad legs, pretty pussy on display, glistening as you roll your hips, desperately fucking a pillow.

“god… damn.” he breathes, hand coming up to rub his chest as if to attempt to still his quick-beating heart. he stuffs a tongue in his cheek, part of him wanted to be mad that you were letting strangers on the internet see you like this before he got to. it was a childish type of jealousy that made his hands sweat and the back of his neck all prickly.

a bird squawks outside his window, causing the maybank boy to jump out of his skin like he was about to be caught watching his best friend get herself off. he juggles the phone, quickly checking the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally liked any posts. he hadn’t, and he exhales— but with the commotion, he’d accidentally refreshed the page. the loading wheel disappears with a pop, and a new tweet displays itself from three minutes prior.

‘my bsf looks after me so good :( he shld make me feel btter by letting me cum on his fingers <3’

it would be stupid to make a move. he would be potentially destroying a friendship, and on top of that — you could be mad at him for snooping. it was kind of a betrayal of trust after all, similar to if he’d read your diary. but his dick was hard and had taken over the steering wheel that operates his brain — and like he always said, stupid things had great outcomes all the time.

so with a clammy hand, he calls you.

“whats up jayj? did i leave something at your place again?” you croak, sounding all sleepy and cute. god, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long.

“uh… so, like — imma cut to the chase, with everything goin’ on at your place, i don’t love the idea of you stayin’ there tonight. i’m comin’ to get you. you’re stayin’ here.” he makes up a quick excuse and feels kind of bad about it. his own desire toward you being masked as genuine concern for a friend. he expects some questioning, maybe even some resistance— but you perk up instantly.

“okay!”

and that’s exactly how you end up cradled in his lap with the rings at his knuckles tickling your opening from how deep in your greedy, drooling pussy they were.

“hmm— mm—huh—” you’re whining, all incoherent and fucked out with your cheek smushed against him, only two orgasms in. jj is grinning ear to ear, like some kind of sicko — never in his life thinking you’d want him like this. he almost wished he’d kept up the act for longer, preyed on your twitter account for longer to see what else you’d say, but he couldn’t help himself. he’d wanted you since you met in high school, and he was hungry.

“what’d i tell ya about not asking for things? could’ve just told me dude, i literally wanted this more than you.” he thinks out loud and you groan, pulling yourself up face to face with the handsome blonde.

“don’t call me dude when your fingers are n’side me!” you slur, lip all puffy and pouted. he smirks, unable to stop himself from finding amusement in your neediness and tilts his head a little so he was breathing right into your mouth.

“i’m sorry that’s my bad. baby.” he corrects himself, before pressing his lips to yours. that was much better.

[evermoresqueiswriting]

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were. 

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did. 

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?” 

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone. 

“Rude!” 

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder. 

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there. 

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head. 

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted. 

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset. 

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear. 

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating. 

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion. 

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her. 

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag. 

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was. 

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her. 

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you. 

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag. 

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at. 

“y/n?,” Will called for you. 

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance. 

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though. 

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood. 

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her. 

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will. 

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious. 

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers. 

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse. 

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier. 

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him. 

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow. 

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive. 

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed. 

Lee slapped his arm. 

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm. 

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly. 

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too. 

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said. 

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner. 

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far. 

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights. 

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also. 

“You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed. 

You whipped around, standing up before backing away. 

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her. 

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly. 

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself. 

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed. 

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink. 

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side. 

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.” 

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat. 

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips. 

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on. 

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work. 

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean. 

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down. 

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured. 

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter. 

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile. 

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her. 

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier. 

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that. 

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t.. 

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged. 

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder. 

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain. 

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said. 

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile. 

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before. 

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in. 

“You’re being weird,” he said. 

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch. 

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.” 

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere. 

“Clarisse?” you called her name. 

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her. 

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’. 

“What happened?” you frowned. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady. 

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs. 

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound. 

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned. 

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile. 

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you. 

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed. 

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt. 

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning. 

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!” 

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell. 

“I just fell,” she explained. 

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia. 

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag. 

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head. 

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.  

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?” 

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused. 

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced. 

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement. 

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes. 

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms. 

“Don’t go,” she mumbled. 

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still. 

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you. 

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile. 

You both left  to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her. 

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered. 

You shook your head. 

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock. 

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

 “Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee. 

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears. 

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out. 

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze. 

Was she making you miserable? 

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again. 

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse. 

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. 

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed. 

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field. 

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch. 

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped. 

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused. 

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out. 

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession. 

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms. 

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?” 

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist. 

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Hazbins bad character design

I feel like there is a definitive lack of varitey when it comes to the designs in HH as well as a problem of characters' designs not fitting them or what the show wants us to assume about them.

I've said it before and I'll say it again (like lots of other ppl already) but the designs in HH specifically mostly don't work. They're fine if you look at them disconnected from the show. Maybe as just random characters who don't really have to carry a show visually. But they don't work if you actually put them into context and into the background of Hazbin Hotel.

Obviously this stuff is very objective and if you do like the designs thats fine (which I shouldn't even have to say). Also I didn't study art or character design and I don't think you have to to be good at it/be able to form opinions on it and this is mostly just me compiling what I don't like while using some basic knowledge on how shapes, colours etc work.

(rant under the cut)

One problem I really have is, that as soon as you have a design there are immediate assumptions about the character. In the sense that if person A is very muscular and fights against person B, who is maybe slimmer or less buff, you would probably immediately assume that person A wins, atleast in physical combat. Whereas person B would probably be the assumed winner in a stretching or flexibility competition. Often characters are designed with these assumptions in mind. Muscle, height, weight, age, clothes etc. give way into assuming stuff about people, their condition, lifestyle or personality.

The expectations that are set up by the design choices are usually either picked to genuinely represent something about a character or to be subverted and shock/confuse the audience.

Like how a lot of fighting types in Pokémon will either be more muscular or have other details relating to certain fighting styles/sports and the fairy types are usually pinkish, fluffy and cutesy. Because these elements are something typically associated with these types and when we look at them we can pretty easily tell which type they're supposed to be.

Otherwise, Monster girl from Invincible is drawn as a twelve year old girl, so it subverts expectations when she turns into a big green monster and generally doesn't stray away from violence, because it's something you wouldn't have assumed about her from her appearance.

In Hazbin Hotel most of the time the character designs don't necessarily fit what they're supposed to be and they also don't use the other design choices as subversion (the one that would probably count here is Nifty with looking and acting very childlike usually but then also acting violent/crazy sometimes).

The first thing would probably be that characters don't look their age mostly.

Charlie and Valeria (Vaggie, but I really don't wanna keep calling her that so she gets a new name) look fine as they're supposed to be around 20. Rosie and Carmilla also look alright for what we can assume their ages are supposed to be. But Alastor is in his 30s or 40s (what it says on the fandom wiki) and he looks around 20 as well. The same thing goes for Lucifer. He looks so young that he could also count as just Charlies brother or friend rather than her dad, because he doesn't look like he could be the dad of a 20 year old. This makes the song "Hell's Greatest Dad" a bit awkward because these men are singing/competing about who is better as Charlies father but they don't look a day older than her. Husk also looks way too young for someone in his 60s-70s (again from the wiki).

The body types being all the same also doesn't help.

Mimzy and Adam are pretty much the only more relevant characters who aren't like all the others in terms of body shape. All the other relevant women in the show have a tiny waist and either big boobs/big hips or just a slimmer build in general. All the men have thin waists and then broader shoulders.

And for some characters it makes sense. Like Angel is really flexible and his more lanky body fits with being a spider. But why are Lucifer and Valentino like that? Other than the fact that Viv doesn't like drawing muscles there is really no reason for them too being build like every other skinny man there. Valentino is supposed to be intimidating not just by how he acts but physically too. He seemingly has a bit more muscle than others but his arms are still super thin and look like they could snap if I look at them wrong. I'm not trying to say that abusers all have to be buff, but simply from a design perspective the scenes with him would be a lot more effective if we saw him actually have a big physical advantage over Angel and others, even when he isn't necessarily threatening them. As soon as he comes on screen, we could see him as a much more intimidating presence, especially when all the other characters look like sticks. Or they could make it so, that he hides his muscles under his coat and when we get the reveal of him actually removing it, it's more shocking and immediately makes the situation more tense.

Lucifer could've had a more confident frame as well. He's the king of hell and the strongest being in hell, so just for the diversity I would give him some muscles too. Husk is also super skinny and for someone who only sits around and drinks alcohol all day, he should definitely have a beer belly (please I swear to god I wanna see more men with bellies, Mammon was great). Also for Valeria and Lute and pretty much all the Angels I don't get why they wouldn't be more buff either. Valeria is a fighter, she's Charlies bodyguard but she looks like all of the other women there. It's stated that Angels fight so wild because they don't know they could get hurt. And while I know that the Angels can really only get hurt by angelic weapons, having this whole reveal that they can be injured would've definitely suprised me more, if they actually looked like they couldn't be injured in the first place. But then again, Valeria looks like her arms would break as soon as a breeze hits them too hard. In some episodes her thighs look a bit more muscular, but not notably and she also doesn't fight using her legs (like Carmilla) so only her thighs being bigger sort of doesn't make sense. In general, she or Lute don't show any difference to the women who aren't physical fighters. And obviously just to have a more interesting show to look at, including different body types would do a great job at making these characters stand apart from eachother more.

While we're on the topic of diversity, another obvious thing that makes the characters redundant and borig (sometimes ugly too) is the reused colour pallette. Colour coding is probably one of the easiest things when talking about character designs and it's something atleast Helluva Boss understands.

What effect warm/cold tones have or what feelings we associate with different colours is a great way to bring stuff about characters across without being too on the nose. Obviously colour can also be used to either connect characters or to make them very distinct. Shape language also plays into that of course. In Inside Out the emotions are mostly characterized by their respective colour and by their distinct shapes.

Joy = yellow (bright colour often associated with the sun/light)

Sadness = blue (cold colour often associated with tears/rain)

Anger = red (very strong colour with aggressive association with fire or when someone turns red because of anger)

Fear = purple (light colour here, mix between red and blue as fear often falls into a more angry or sad feeling)

Disgust = green (colour of most dirt or puke or other stuff people usually see as gross)

Or in a show like Bluey, where different patterns, shapes and colours show the breed of the dog and also how characters might be related to eachother (same breed/mix of breed = usually related).

Or how colours can be used as lighting effects to create cool shots when the colour pallette changes all of a sudden. In JJBA these changes happen often when someone is in distress or unsure of themselves. Also in tense moments to make them seem more exciting and interesting.

Hazbin Hotel has very limited range when it comes to the colours of the main cast. All of them feature some form of red and that usually in combination with black or white (if they aren't just purely red like Alastor or Rosie). This makes them not stand out from eachother and creates very similar colour pallettes which get boring once you've seen them repeated over and over again. It also makes the visual connection between characters who are actually related (like Charlie and Lucifer) a lot less strong because so many characters share similarities already.

Also they just hurt to look at sometimes because the background is mostly red as well and with a lot of them being very overly detailed. People have also spoken before about the show being pretty inaccessible for colour blind/vision impared people due to these issues with the colour.

And now you might say that it's hell and therefore it makes sense for all of them and the background to be red. But firstly, I don't think that there is a definitive source which decides that hell is red and can only be shown/interpreted as red. And also there is another show, also set in hell which actually does a much better job at that and actually shows different colours in hell. Like in Helluva Boss the rings are all colour coded.

And I know, that HH plays in the pride ring fully, but imagine how cool it would've been to see sinners have colours similar to the sin(s) they committed. This could lead to them looking distinct from eachother and the background and would also lead to us being able to assume stuff about them, if we're familiar with the colour coding. In "Hell's Greatest Dad" they do a fun colour change with different light and it's really refreshing and I just wanted to see more variety like that (of course I kinda get that the colour changing isn't really part of the shows design but it was pretty cool to see in that song).

There also is the issue with characters that are supposed to be animal-like sinners not looking like the animal they apparently take inspiration from. The thing is that the animal/object parts don't necessarily have to be visible to understand a character. But in the show, how sinners look in hell is often influenced by their life on earth. Vox's head being a TV is because he was a Tv-show host when he was alive. Nifty also is supposedly a bug, which makes sense because she hates bugs and probably hated them in real life too. But that is where it would be great to actually have Nifty resemble a bug, instead she has no features of one and just looks like a regular humanoid sinner. The same thing happens with Alastor being a deer, Valeria a moth, Charlie goat-like and Angel a spider (also Mimzy is apparently based off of a chicken). Like I said, the animal inspiration isn't essential to the characters, but emphasizing these design elements could help the characters stand out instead of them all just looking like sort of human characters. Sir pentious and Husk work the best in terms of presenting their animal inspiration (though pretty much everything else about Husks design sucks ass).

And then there are complaints about the characters that are supposed to be people of colour not having any features that resemble their race. It's just a bit weird when a mostly humanoid sinner doesn't really seem to resemble how the person looked in real life. Black characters have really desaturated and sometimes just straight up grey skin in HH. Alastor is probably the most egregious in that regard, but also Emily has just light blueish gray skin and no textured hair or other black features like the nose or lips or palms. Velvette and Sera have darker skin but also no other features (except for when we see Velvette's natural hair texture in like one shot at the end of the season). I know there are other things wrong with how Voodoo is presented in HH or with Mimzy's design often being seen as a jewish caricature, but I don't wanna focus on that fully, because I feel like there are people better suited for talking about that (black people or jewish people ofc).

In general HH is a show with pretty bad designs (imo). That's actually a thing I prefer about Helluva Boss, because there the designs are mostly okay or actually sometimes pretty good. Striker is probably my favourite design in both shows (he reminds me of Dillon and that's cool).

I like Mammon, Asmodeus, Octavia and Loona as well. I would still probably change a bunch if I were to redesing the HB cast but they overall look more solid than the HH cast.

This was another post which pretty quickly became an excuse to talk about other media I enjoy. I might do that more often, because comparing elements of HH or HB to other stuff makes it kinda easier to articulate my feelings. Also just because I enjoy talking about other stuff too.

[aureatchi]

˚୨୧ ｡ ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai

⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.

a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3

info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ﾉ wc. 3.6k

“It’s just a lot.”

You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.

“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”

You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.

“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”

She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”

You sighed. She knew you too well.

“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“

“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”

You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.

You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…

“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”

“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”

“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”

“No. Of course not.”

It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.

Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.

“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”

Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.

She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”

She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.

“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”

…

You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.

Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.

Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.

But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?

You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.

But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.

So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.

You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.

“…Osamu.”

He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.

“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.

You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.

“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“What…why are you following me?”

You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.

His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.

“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”

You continued walking, not responding to his reply.

“Where are we going?”

“Who’s we?”

“Aw, that was really rude.”

You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.

You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.

“Why were you at the bar alone?”

“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.

“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”

Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.

“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”

You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”

“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”

“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”

“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”

You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.

Why do I care if he drinks or not?

No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.

You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.

“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.

“Heck no,” you responded.

“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.

“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”

“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“

“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.

“It works.”

“Great! Can I push you now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.

You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.

“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.

Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.

You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.

“H-Help—Osamu!”

“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.

“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.

“Yeah, it is—HEY!”

Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.

“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.

You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.

And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.

“Got you.”

You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.

“I told you not to push me that high!”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”

You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”

“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“Let me drive you home then,” he said.

“I think I’m fin—“

“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.

“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”

“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”

You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.

…

You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.

You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.

He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.

“What have you been up to these past months?”

You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.

“A case. It’s something huge going on.”

Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.

Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.

“I see. Sleeping okay?”

“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.

Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.

He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.

…

You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.

A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.

“Do you still like this song?”

“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.

You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.

Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”

“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”

“What?”

“What if I hope to see you again after this?”

“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.

“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”

You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.

“…you think about me?”

You were answered with a nod.

Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.

“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”

He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”

“You’re selfish,” you commented.

“I know. I’m very.”

You opened the door, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you for driving me,” you said.

You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.

You contemplated for a second.

“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.

“No.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”

You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.

Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.

“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”

…

You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.

Why did I do this?

You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”

A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.

“You lit my candles?”

“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.

Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”

“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.

Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.

“What do you think you could’ve done better?”

There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.

“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”

“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.

“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”

“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.

You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.

“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.

“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”

“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”

“Osamu.”

You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.

“Can you please bandage me?”

“Why?”

“I miss your touches.”

You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…

“Your coat.”

You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.

Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.

You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.

He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.

You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.

“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”

Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.

His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.

“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”

He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.

“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.

Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.

“But I’m selfish too.”

You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.

Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.

A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.

“Bella,” he whispered.

“Osamu?”

“Too much? Just let me know.”

“Don’t stop.”

He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.

“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”

His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.

“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”

You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.

“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.

“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”

“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”

“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”

“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”

“You remember so much.”

“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”

dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.

[kookslastbutton]

enamored ༓ myg (m) | one

✑ Summary: Min Yoongi is nothing like what you imagined him to be when you saw him preform at the local cafe in town. Yet little by little he surprises you with his true self, until somehow you find yourself completely enamored with him.

pairing: new independent artist!yoongi x veterinarian!reader

genre/AU: fluff, angst, eventual smut, strangers2acquaintance2lovers, mini-series

word count: 4,643

Warnings: Nothing too heavy but oc is around 25, mention of unhealthy past relationships, yoon is a struggling artist, talk about social insecurity, cats, the rest of the fluff stuff is for you to find out haha

now playing: cold/mess

a/n: Due to me and my fellow Yoon enthusiasts missing myg, I bring us this three-part mini-series. I'm not sure how this will go but hope you enjoy! 🥰 Lowkey has me thinking of Yoongi pre-debut days.

Tonight’s the first night the local coffeehouse you and your friend, Nara, visit for weekly rant sessions is showcasing musicians of all backgrounds, statuses, and genres. And you are very much looking forward to the absolute cutie pictured in a fluffy sky-blue cardigan, a big gummy smile on, and undeniably soft, chocolate eyes.

His arms casually rest atop his guitar followed by the words ‘Agustd’ in scripted font underneath. You’ve never heard of him before but you’re convinced that he’ll play something light and uplifting given the aesthetic of his image displayed on the TV screen.

“God it’s packed like a football stadium here,” Nara interrupts your gaze on the tv from across the table. She sits with her hands folded on the wooden surface, a giant diamond sparkling on her left hand.

“You’re telling me,” you tsk. “I already came close to bumping into a middle-aged man with two lattes in his hands and a couple of college girls attempting to film a TikTok on our way in.”

It’s no exaggeration to say the cafe itself is swarming with new faces who are eager for a night of leisure while overworked baristas rush to fulfill orders. You have the innate instinct to offer them your help, though they’d likely advise it’s better for you to remain seated.

“Have you ever been to a football stadium though?” You ask more condescendingly than intended, but you find her analogy amusing since she’s never been one to pay attention to sports.

Nara rolls her eyes at your light probing. “No, but I’ve seen pictures. You know how big of a fan my Yunjun is of football. He’s gone to the United States to watch the super bowl eight times now.”

She says it proudly, but the reality is that her lovey Yunjun has not once invited her to go with him. Instead, he takes three of his closest friends and disappears to the other side of the world for two weeks. Everyone knows the super bowl only lasts one day so why the hell is he there for that long? Likely to get drunk with his buddies, that’s why.

“You know I don’t like him,” you say bluntly. “Why are you marrying him again?” Nara’s confident smile turns into a defensive scowl as she proceeds to tell you, once again, all the ways that Yunjun “completes her”.

On and on she continues for ten minutes straight until her voice slowly drowns out to the clapping and cheering of the crowd behind her. A young woman named Yuri just finished performing a few of her original songs and is thanking the audience for listening. You lightly clap along in politeness.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Nara pipes up once the crowd falls silent again. “Yunjun is extremely thoughtful. Yesterday he messaged me to meet for lunch without me having to ask first.”

“Uh huh…” you drawl out, eyes shifting between her and the distracting movements of bodies behind her. The young woman who just performed steps off the stage while a young man steps forward to take her place.

You struggle to keep eye contact with Nara as said man lazily slumps himself on the wooden stool at the front of the room and balances his acoustic guitar on his knee. He looks like he just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago; hair tousled about, a big black sweatshirt covering half his body, and possibly the most somber facial expression on.

Is that the same guy from the promo image? Agust something?

You lean your head to the side and past Nara’s head to get a better view.

It is him but he looks so starkly different from his photo on the TV screen. His mood is much more melancholy than you imagined, like Grumpy Bear from Care Bears.

It makes you wild with curiosity.

You find yourself placing a hand under your chin, intent on listening to his every word. By now, Nara's noticed your interest in the musician so she's stopped talking and pays attention to him as well.

“Hi, I’m Agustd and I'm an independent artist,” he introduces himself in a low voice, lips pressed to the microphone. His focus is set on the audience in front of him at first but then, as if feeling your heavy stare, he flicks his eyes directly into yours. "I'm also known as Min Yoongi."

You feel your stomach flutter at the gesture which only seems to grow in intensity when he doesn't bother to remove his gaze from you.

He can't actually be looking at you, right?

"I'm starting off with a song I wrote a few years ago titled Seesaw," he continues. "I wrote it while going through, what I thought was at the time, a hopeless period of my life. Please enjoy." And with that he begins strumming on the chords of his guitar, eyes slowly closing to immerse himself in the beautiful music.

Everyone is on the edge of their seats as much as you when he leans further into the mic, lips gently parting.

"In the beginning, well, it was fun

Just going up and down itself

Before we knew, we both became sick of

meaningless waste of emotions

A repeated seesaw, seesaw game

Having come this far, I got sick of, got sick of it

A repeated seesaw, seesaw game

We’re both got tired and became sick of it..."

As Yoongi continues to preform with closed eyes and breathy voice, you take in the rawness of his lyrics. Seesaw tells about relationship that's grown draining; that the weight of staying in something so tiring should come to an end sooner rather than later.

It resonates with you deeply as you've experienced first-hand the challenges of staying in a bottomless relationship. You didn't want to acknowledge it at the time, but you put in all the effort when you and your ex were together. And though it was three years ago since your break up, the constant feeling of exhaustion and being less than haunts you every night.

The vibrations in Yoongi's voice echoing off the mic tells you he's been through similar pain. So much so that it thrums in your own chest and you realize how wrong you'd been to think he'd compose a lighthearted song.

"How crafty the heart of a person is

Though we know one will get hurt if the other is not there,

because we both don’t want to be the bad guy,

we continue to awkwardly pass the buck, umm umm

and end up becoming exhausted, ironically reaching the paralleled balance

Ay, this is not the kind of balance that I wanted..."

With every line, you notice Yoongi's delicate fingers struggling to hold down each chord. It's clear that he's thinking about whoever this song is about in this very moment. Nevertheless, he presses on with a fervent spirit until the end.

You and a handful of people are the only ones who clap when the last line of Seesaw is sung. The rest of the audience is oddly reluctant to applaud and your best guess is that they weren't expecting to hear something so profoundly reflective. The musicians before him had been far more upbeat so to speak.

"Thank you," Yoongi mutters with hesitance. He scans the mute crowd who seemingly cause the air to grow thicker by exchanging awkward glances with one another.

Without another word, Yoongi surprises everyone by standing up from his stool and walking over to the seat he was sitting in before coming on stage. He picks up a few loose papers, and his keys, and zips his guitar into its case before heading for the exit.

"Didn't he have more songs to play?" Nara turns to you with a frown on her face, puzzled at the turn of events.

"I thought so too," you reply, fingers restless as you watch him leave the cafe. "You know what...I'll be right back." You're unsure what prompts you to follow him out other than your unsettled conscience telling you that this isn't the first time he's gotten this type of response and that he deserves better.

"Excuse me, Agustd? Or Yoongi?" You're sure he can hear your voice call to him as he opens the rear door of his beater car. His head whips in your direction immediately.

"Yeah?" He answers simply yet when he sees the white of your eyes, he does a double take; stunned that the only person he cared to recognize the whole night followed him out.

Typically with small gigs like this Yoongj doesn't take much note of the crowd unless they're booing him off the stage. And even then he plays it off. But somehow, your relaxed gaze soothed him, so he remembers you—he remembers the way you made him feel.

"I just wanted to say you sounded good. Better than good actually," you correct yourself, words sputtering out a little too fast. "Seesaw is amazing and you're a genius to have written it."

Your hands get clammier as you approach him. You hope this doesn't sound dumb but something in you won't let him leave without giving him at least a shred of honest encouragement.

The corner of Yoongi's mouth barely quirks up before it quickly falls back down. He sets his guitar in the back seat of his car, then shuts the door and gives you a nod. "Thanks but you don't have to say that."

He moves to the driver's door and reaches to grip the handle but out of nowhere, you stop him by placing a hand over his wrist.

"I mean it," you assure him.

Yoongi doesn't move a muscle as he glances between your hand around his wrist and your seemingly oblivious face. For three seconds you stare at each other with intense eyes, wordless as you take in each other's micro-expressions.

Through the physical contact, you can both feel the rapid beating of each other's hearts but you're unsure if it's simply nerves from an embarrassing situation or something else entirely.

"Sorry." You finally come to your senses and retract your fingers. "I just wanted to tell you that I connected with the lyrics of your song. Not everyone does and that's okay but it really is amazing Yoongi. So don't pay attention to those rude people in there okay?"

At this, Yoongi's expressions soften and a timid smile forms on his plushy lips. He runs a hand through his messy hair, smoothing down some of the loose strands sticking up.

"I appreciate you coming out to tell me this...wait what's your name?"

"__."

"__. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed my music but don't worry, I don't take it personally when people dislike my songs. It just means it wasn't for them." He shrugs carelessly but there's a hidden sorrow laced in his tone. He holds his chin high yes, but his heart is so deep in his chest.

"Hey," you start. "If I was a music manager I'd sign you on immediately. You don't happen to have that song recorded do you? Uploaded to music platforms or anything?"

"Yeah, I just put it on Spotify actually. I also have some CDs." Yoongi pauses and wets his lips. "If you're interested," he finishes with slightly averted eyes.

"Call me old fashioned but could I get one of those?"

"What?" He taken aback by your response.

"A cd. You said you have one?"

"Uh sure, yeah just a second." He walks to the trunk of his car, opens the lid, and rummages around until he pulls forward a small cardboard box. "I don't have great packaging yet but here's one." Yoongi holds out a plain white sleeve with a disk inside. "Hope you don't mind but I signed my name on it. Thought it would make it personal or something."

You take the disk from his hand and cheese at him. "Wow, I can't believe I'm getting an autographed version right off the bat. How much?"

Yoongi shakes his head. "You can have it."

"No, really how much?" Taking this man's cd without paying him a dime does not sit well with you. Regardless, Yoongi continues to insist.

"It's on me. Maybe when I get to the point where I can have concerts you'll come." He jokes but you remain serious, digging into your pocket for your wallet. You take 26000 won out ($20) and shove it in his hand. "Hey wait!" Yoongi calls after you when you quickly start backing away from him.

"No takebacks!" You holler. "I'm sorry to leave so suddenly but my friend's waiting for me inside. It was nice meeting you Yoongi and I look forward to when you become a raging success. Until then, I'll be streaming your songs on Spotify! Treat yourself to something nice alright?"

He steps forward, mouth falling open as if to say something but nothing comes out. Your face is already turned away from him as he watches you trot back to the cafe'. He rolls the cash in his hand and stuffs it in his back pocket, hoping that maybe he'll cross paths with you again.

A week passes and you've not forgotten your interaction with Min Yoongi. You wish you hadn't run away like you did but it's true that Nara was waiting for you inside. Any longer and she would have sent a search party for you–she's on the extreme end.

Plus, you didn't want him giving the money back to you. It was a noble gesture to hand it over to you for free but it wasn't necessary. Yoongi is an independent artist who's working to establish himself in the music industry and you were more than willing to pay for good music.

You're currently sitting in your car, replaying the affair in your head for the umpteenth time while you wait for your pizza to be ready. You were told you'd get a text notification though it's taking longer than usual, given how much louder the growling of your stomach has gotten.

Finding new ways to distract yourself gets more challenging with each passing minute. You open the glove department of your car and pull out Yoongi's cd, admiring the beautiful signature marked in black ink on the disk.

Seesaw - Agustd 2018

It's crazy of you but you kind of miss him. Yoongi wasn't like anything you expected him to be, so deep and grounded while at the same time warm-hearted. He was incredibly handsome too. And when you touched his arm, eyes piercing into his, it was like you were being magnetically pulled to him.

Is that possible though? Sharing a magnetic force with practically a stranger?

Your contemplation is interrupted when the sound of your phone notification rings off. Finally, your order's ready. You toss the cd back into the glove box and head inside the pizza shop.

"Hi, welcome to Little Slice of Heaven," the young lady at the counter greets you with a cheery smile. "How can I help you?"

"I have an order for __." You open your wallet and hand over your credit card. She takes it from you speedier than you like, ringing it up then returning it to you with a paper receipt.

"I'll go grab it for you." She swiftly turns around, nearly bumping into one of her coworkers. "Shit sorry!" The person gives a small grunt in response before mumbling an 'its fine, I got it'.

"Order for __."

You stash the receipt in your pocket, then look up to take the boxes of steaming hot pizza. "Yes, thank you so m–," You freeze at once at the familiar face in the iconic navy blue Little Slice of Heaven uniform.

"Yoongi?" He seems to be just as motionless as you when you say his name. "I didn't know..."

"I just started," he answers shortly. "It's uh, good to see you again. How have you been?"

"Oh you know, still alive. Pizza helps me." You chuckle to help break the ice. Yoongi doesn't laugh but you do catch his eyes softening the smallest bit. "What about you? How have you been?"

"Good. Music's good too." He runs a hand through his hair, a habit you're beginning to pick up from him. "I–sorry I must sound like an idiot. I didn't expect to see anyone I knew here tonight."

"You don't sound like an idiot. You said you just started working here right?"

He nods.

"Yoongi!" An older man with a navy blue visor on his head calls from one of the pizza ovens in the back. "I need you to deliver this to the lovely couple sitting at table 8. Times ticking!"

Yoongi looks at the man, then at you. He knows what he needs to do except the thought of letting you leave after getting the rare chance to see you again causes him to linger in place.

"It's okay," you try to ease him, despite also feeling conflicted to leave. "You're working. I come here often so I'll see you around." You're only able to take two steps before the same voice hollers to you.

"Wait, __. What are you doing tomorrow at 6?"

"It's Saturday so, probably watching re-runs of Friends. Why?"

For the first time, Yoongi lets out a hearty laugh and you're instantly reminded of his photo from the cafe last week; the one of him in the sky-blue cardigan with his guitar. His expression exudes the same joyful aura as if his two personas suddenly merge as one.

"I love Friends," he says. "The whole Ross and Rachel thing is driving me mad though, like why won't they–"

"Yoongi the food needs to go now!" His coworker yells at him again, wiping his sweat fro his brow. "Tell your girlfriend or whoever that is that you have work to do!"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Yoongi responds with rosy cheeks. "Sorry, I gotta get back to it. I know Friends is tough to compete with but do you think you'd have an hour to spare? We could–I could get a pizza for us to split. Already got your order down." He gives a lopsided grin as he jokes lightly.

"Okay." You break into a smile. "I wouldn't dream of passing up my comfort food." You sound calm but the back of your mind reels with uncertainty. Is he asking you out or is it the so-called "hang out", sometimes masked as a pre-date?

He reaches for the pad of paper on the counter next to him, scribbles something down, and tears it off to give it to you. "Here's my number. Feel free to text me if anything changes. No pressure though."

Once you take the paper from him, he disappears into the back of the kitchen before you can get another word out. Min Yoongi, you hum silently, timid yet takes initiative. Cute.

You decide it's better to see Yoongi's proposal as a hang out rather than a date. It's not like he came out and said, "do you want to go out" or anything. So at 6 pm on the dot, you agree to meet him at Little Slice of Heaven. As promised, he brings a pizza for you to share.

He's already changed out of his work clothes by the time you arrive; sporting a white t-shirt, jeans, and a thin chain necklace. The basic look works on him.

"So I didn't get to ask you yesterday," you start, turning to Yoongi who sits on the swivel stool next to you. "How do you like it here and what made you come?"

He shrugs and places a slice of pizza on his paper plate. "Pays the bills. I was working as a waiter down on main street a few months ago. I chose to leave that place due to poor management and...I lack social skills, evidently."

"Come on, you do not." You refuse to believe it. "Anytime we've talked it's been pleasant so any naysayers probably don't even know what side's up."

Yoongi snorts in amusement. "We've only had two conversations __." He says it flatly yet it doesn't keep your cheeks from feeling flushed, warmth blooming in the pit of your belly. Your name sounds different from his lips this time.

"You're right, and both times you've shown great social skills."

"I think you're stretching it a little. As I recall I was a bit more reserved with you than usual. Must have been awkward for you."

"Not in the slightest," you deny. "There's nothing awkward about being reserved. In fact, sometimes it's better and it typically means you're a better listener than most. And if you were so awful, you wouldn't be working here right? This is food service too."

"Thanks for saying that." He glances down at his hands in his lap, unsure of how much you're saying rings true, then looks back up at you. "I don't need to talk with people as much as I do a server though. It's more like I hand them their pizza and wish them a good life."

"Well, I guess you make a point there. But trust me Yoongi, you don't lack social skills. Can I ask you something though? Weirdly off-topic."

"Shoot."

"It's about your photo from the cafe last week. It showed you in a blue cardigan with a smile on your face except when you came in to play that day..."

An unexpected grin forms on his face as he finishes your sentence. "I looked like I hated my life or something right? Or like Grumpy Bear from that kiddy cartoon, Caring Bears.

"Care Bears."

"Right, Care Bears." He chuckles lightly. "The music I tend to write shows my raw feelings and experiences. A song like Seesaw, as you've heard, is no exception, but I don't think my overall theme has to be dark as well. The image you saw shows the current version of me, the one who's liberated from those past experiences."

"That's extremely meaningful, Yoongi."

"As far as why I showed up in a giant black sweatshirt, it's because I wanted to dress comfortably. I always get a little nervous performing in front of a live audience so it helps. Especially since I'm only a new artist without a label supporting me. I was also a little sleepy from mixing beats the night before too, I won't lie."

"That makes so much sense. How long have you been making music for?"

"Since a teenager. Like thirteen."

"Seriously?" You nearly fall off your chair. Yoongi is a born genius it seems.

"Yeah. I never pursued being an independent artist until now. Resources and connections were pretty grim for me. Since becoming an adult I've made some progress. Still working to get my name out there though."

"I understand." You nod along. "Being an independent artist, you must have to do a lot to gain exposure. Have you considered uploading videos of yourself playing your songs on social media?"

"I've done some and they've been good. I'm actually trying to send my songs to a few record labels but I haven't heard back from any yet. It's been a good six months so I don't know. There's still one that I'm holding out hope for. I only sent my music to them a week ago."

"That's a shame they didn't contact you. Just means they missed out on Agustd which they will, without a doubt, be regretting later. Do you have an estimate on when the newest label will reach out to you?"

"No clue. They say it takes anywhere from a week to three months. By the way," he pauses. "I have to ask. Do you really like my music? I don't mean that rudely or anything."

"Hell yeah, I like it! You're honestly insanely talented and love it actually."

"God," Yoongi fakes an eye roll. "Don't tell me you're my first groupie."

You both share a laugh that can only be described as natural.

"Enough about me." He speaks first after your laughter settles down. "What do you do? Have any crazy hobbies?"

"I'm afraid I don't have any crazy hobbies at the moment. I work as a vet downtown and I don't have much free time unless it's to binge-watch movies on the weekend. I love my job though."

"Ah," Yoongi narrows his eyes as if coming to a drastic realization. "It's all coming together."

"What is?"

"The reason why you're so kind and stable." He gathers several napkins and hands them over to you when some of the water from your glass accidentally spills on the table. "No you have a bright energy to you, but it's not hyper. It's like you really care in a hospitable way. You work with animals which requires a lot of heart. Do you have any pets at home?"

"Yeah, I actually have two cats. Both siamese. I want to get a dog but right now I wouldn't be around to take care of it well. Cats are a little more independent." You wipe up the water with the napkins and continue. "Thanks for saying all that Yoongi. I'm not sure stable is the best way to describe me."

"Well, for what it's worth you're the most stable person I've met. I think everyone needs someone like you in their life."

"I–what kind of people are you hanging around?" You feel flustered so you do the first thing that comes to mind, nudge his shoulder playfully which he laughs at. "I'm not all that. I have faults like anyone else."

"Name one." He taps the table with a finger to make a point. "Dare you."

"I don't know, I dislike vacuuming my rug."

"Oh my god." He covers his mouth to feign shock. "Scandalous. I don't think we should eat together again after that. Wow."

"Stop it, that was a dumb one. I have stuff I swear. If this were a first date I'd be a bit appalled that you're asking me to list my faults. It isn't usually the time you try to pick each other apart."

"Actually, it sort of is to an extent. You have to observe each other right? So those so-called red flags will come up sooner than later to keep you from unnecessary pain and heartache later."

You maul on his words. "Point made. Wish I knew that three years ago," you hum. Yoongi seems to agree with you from the way he quietly nods.

"Ex-boyfriend?" he asks.

"Yup, what about you? Ex-girlfriend?"

He nods again and it puts an end to any further talk about exes or past relationships.

"By the way," Yoongi folds his arms against his chest. "I have a cat too. I got him two years ago at a shelter. He's pretty much my best friend."

The excitement on your face is impossible to conceal. Min Yoongi has a cat? You need to know everything about said cat right now.

"What's his name? Is he a long hair? You give me long-haired cat dad vibes." You're hasty— so sue you, you're a vet. Animals are sort of your wheelhouse.

"His name's Kiwi and he's an overly fed Russian Blue. He's six years old." Yoongi laughs and leans towards you with mirthful eyes. "If you want, I can introduce you to him." He cocks a brow and your shoulders perk up.

"Honest? I would actually die to see your cat."

Yoongi slides off his chair and tosses the empty pizza box in the trash. "Let's go to my place then."

"What?" You crickle the napkin in your hand and toss it on your paper plate. "Now?"

"Yeah now's as good a time as ever." He takes his keys from his jeans pocket and gestures for the door. "Don't worry, I won't make you stay for long."

a/n: thanks for reading! lmk what you think 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[fireboltcrystal]

The Mishandling of Varric Tethras

How Dragon Age: The Veilguard utilized a fan favorite, only for the worst....

Just a little bit more salt. I wasn’t initially going to post anything else, but I kept thinking about all the things that have frustrated me about vg. & the one that just keeps driving me insane, is how Bioware treated and used Varric in The Veilguard. I just wanted to expand/rant a little more about my disappointment and disgust. Both in what was done to Varric and how it shows off the cracks in vg’s understanding (lack) of characterization.

WARING, SALT, BASIC CRITIQUE, WITH BIOWARE/VG BASHING + IT’S LONGER THAN I INTENDED, SORRY)

~

For consideration; first I admit fully I did not play The Veilguard, I watched a friend who is also a fan, play the game from beginning to end, alongside watching others live-stream the game. Re-watching clips and reading story summaries for clarification.

I’m not a lore expert by any means, I will occasionally investigate other parts of the series for fun. But I mostly know about the series from playing the games. Extend universe is fun but should not be necessary. Plus, I should not have to pay potentially $100+ for a game and its extended universe of comics and novels, just to talk about my opinion on disappointing story aspects.

Second, I’m not a professional or semi-professional writer. So, pardon for any mistakes.

Third, Varric Tethras is my favorite character of the Dragon Age series. My bias will be on full display.

Does this all mater, no but I want to be honest just in case other fans find this and think I am trying to ‘stir the pot’ and make people who were somehow able to enjoy vg sad.

Truthfully, I do not care if anyone reads this. I just needed to compartmentalize my feelings beyond trying to only ignore and move on. Also, if you do not like Varric, fine but please don’t waste your time commenting on how you hate him. It is annoying and pointless. I do not care, have a nice day, anyways.

Character Background:

(feel free to skip to the next part, if you don’t want a refresher)

From the song 'Companions',

Varric charms with clever words

Vender of exotic goods

Writer of salacious books

A rogue, a dwarf with ragged looks

Varric Tethras is the rouge, dwarven companion of da2 and dai. Second son and first of his family to be born on the surface. Scion of House Tethras, which once held prominence in the underground kingdom of Orzammar. Which now resides in the Free Marches, city state of Kirkwall after scandal had the family banished. Though Varric does not come off as really interested in the traditions of his family’s homeland or following heavily in the faith of ‘The Stone’.

He is ironically a deeply ‘human’ character; as cunning as he is compassionate. A merchant prince with a decent ‘spy network’ (though has a difficult time not being worried about his agents). Known for wielding his signature crossbow, named Bianca; he clashes with his elder brother Bartrand and the Dwarven Merchants guild and holds a substantial tab at the “The Hanged Man” tavern. He also to extent is Andrastian, though not as pious that is traditionally acceptable. He frames it more so as enjoying an ‘great story’. But he does speak on the life of prophet, Andraste with far more understanding than even some of the most faithful characters can. Could it just be storytellers’ intuition or maybe more…

Segway into the fact that he is also a serial novelist, who writes everything from crime dramas, epics, to romances novels. He is a deeply ‘romantic’ person, loyal to friends and those he loves, at a times to a fault. Varric is a self-described liar but it never feels deeply malicious. Only as way of obfuscating when dealing with painful memories, hiding info to protect his friends from and to optimally fuck with the Chantry. His friendship with Hawke, is so close to point that he was willing to lie to the Chantry guard, and put his life and freedom on the line to protect them.

Another major example would be in his tempestuous relationship, with Bianca Davri; a dwarven engineer of tremendous skill. Though we do not get all the details as it is part of the Bianca, the crossbows naming, ‘the one story he will never tell’.

What we do get is a very complicated affair. Were the two honestly should and in some parts have already moved on from each other. It is mature, messy, and shows a flaw in his character; that though he lives in the present, he can be weighed down by his past mistakes.

-

Game-wise, in da2 he is the unreliable narrator for the story of Hawke and a rouge companion. As his background as a storyteller, he spins a yarn to Seeker Casandra Pentaghast, about the Champion of Kirkwall. Along with has a part in the main quest that ties into his relationship and ultimate the fate of his brother, Bartand. He can potentially become either a best friend or a rival to Hawke.

In dai he is again a rouge companion, initially ‘arrested’ by the Chantry, he joins the Inquisition to help save Thedas. He has a substantial role in the story; he acts as a re-introduction to Hawke (and can affected by their potential fate later in the story) and the main antagonist, Corypheus (featured in da2 dlc). Along with he is a first-hand witness to the dangers and damage red lyrium can cause. This also includes a connecting quest to destroy lyruim deposits, to which we can even finally meet the mysterious Bianca herself. He can become another friend with high approval or he can become disillusioned with the Inquisitor if low.

In Trespasser/post-game, we learn that he has been chosen to become the Viscount of Kirkwall and though the job drives him nuts; he shows a genuine zeal for the position. In the both the power he utilizes to make genuine changes for the city that he loves and to abuse it, as an excuse to give his friends ‘free shit’. Including bestowing the Inquisitor a title, estate, and key to the city (or mechanism to control the giant-ass chains lol).

~

Quick moment of positivity before vg proper, I will say I think Varric’s new design works for an older interpretation of the marksman. He has his fundamental details, the leather coat, ring necklace, obvious flash of chest hair and of course crossbow Bianca. But the new additions like the Inquisition belt buckle and the three, crossed facial scars are nice touches to his look. Minor criticism, a little confused at hair color change, but hair can turn darker as one ages, and the gray does look great on him. A little less okay with is the beard, in part since Varric known to be indifferent to the traditions of Orzammar, like having a longer beard. Prior games his face is shaven or with very faint scruff. But I can also see it as him leaving it to the way side during the hunt for Solas. Also, he is missing his three earrings, Bioware what did you do with the man’s jewelry!

VG Prologue:

Varric’s introduction in the game starts at the beginning of new protagonists Rook. In a nameless bar in Minathous. Rook can choose to react with wordplay or violence. After which Varric, chilling out in corner (which he should, let that old dwarven man rest!) comments on how Rook handled themselves in the standoff/scuffle and how they are his second in command (woof sheesh, tough break Harding). Without any time to spare they are off to find their contact.

Fist off: The bond that Rook and Varric have; is that there's kinda isn't. Normally a player is introduced to character and we naturally grow interest with them, through game play and conversation.

But in vg there is no built up, it’s all a preset relationship. “I know your can do this, you’re the best, Kid,” blah blah. Other than a few half-baked dialogue choices that pretty amount to nothing. There is no moment to talk with him, ask him questions beyond getting the main story into motion (all go, go, go find this person, here, that, there & etc.).

Something separate I bring up, not only to Varric and Rooks ‘relationship’. But an issue that I could have actually help (a little bit) of vg’s starting issues.

Why the fuck are the devs. so terrified of the original Origins.

Because this is the game that probably needed those kinds of intros back, more than ever. Be it for players returning (or first introductions) to the world of Thedas. & no, the half-baked, faction summaries are not enough when most of them barely factor into how you build and detail out your background. Some factions like the Shadow Dragons get just a few scraps to role-play or as everyone I have seen and spoken to has said that the Lord of Fortunes might as well have been cut completely, there is so little.

It feels so hollow to have hardly any dialogue choices to help flesh out Rook as a different character. Instead, they are a carbon copy personality dumpster fire, bland in a way a single-cell hero could be. Quippy and Inhuman.

Now back to Varric; how in the world do they know each other, why did they join in with the Inquisition or what remained of it, how did Varric end up deciding on a chess themed nickname, all these question & more could have been answered with a character Origin! *hooray* (Wow, look at that!)

In this have Varric play the role of recruiter like Duncan. He will meet the players, intro into combat, have quick convos on what the hell is going on, speak to the people and to show off a part of the world.

But in this case to create the foundational bond between the new player character and now mentor, Varric. So that if there are any dramas moments, the player will actually feel, if or when an npc is in peril…

But instead, the dev. team opted to just simply have Varric already know Rook, no build up required. Just a pre-established association with no real input from the player. Which creates a disconnect, new players are not going to automatically know who the hell Varric is. Most will just roll with it, so to finally get to the game proper, but it will not add up down the line…

For returning players, the writers did something kind of nasty on reflection; they used our nostalgia to do the heavy lifting of character development. We do not get to know Varric as a new person, just as extended cameo (which happens to other characters in vg). That one we are only able to understand because of playing the previous games, who though had their own development woes, still had developers with their priorities straight when creating them, its world, and its characters.

So if you are not a fan or feel neutral about Varric. Rook has a casual-esq working relationship with him. Clean, bland, sanitized (like the rest of the game).

But if you are a fan of him, it ends up feeling like an old friend you have lost contact with and now you have become different person (literally) but with the nostalgia strangling you. Varric feels slightly the same, but older, exhausted and one who’s writers should have let gently retire years ago…

It feels sad and lackluster in comparison to how full and interesting his prior introductions were.

Da2 had two Varric intros; first with his arrest and interrogation, he becomes the narrator of the game, though under distress. It creates mystery, why is this guy being dragged around though a dungeon, what has he done, does he know something, or maybe someone…

But in-game proper, after Hawke’s failed meeting with Bartrand. Varric stops a pickpocket from running off with Hawke’s stolen coin purse, he lands a bolt into the thief, taking back the money, punching them out for the trouble and returning the coins with a flourish. They talk about his brother and their plans to venture into the Deep Roads for fame, glory but money for profit.

You get a little taste of both points, Varric brought low and also at the top of his game.

In dai slightly similar but without the framing device, Varric is fighting alongside Solas (oh we will get to you). & after sealing the tear, Varric introduces himself, there is even a dialogue choice where he compares himself to us as we are both technically prisoners to the Chantry, though his arrest by Cassandra is kind of null after the explosion. It helps build a link between him and the prisoner, later Inquisitor. For new players, you get to see peak Varric charm. But also perfect for old players ready to bond with him again, after so long and to a forge a connection with a brand-new protag.

With this we not only see that Varric still has his wicked charm, but that others also react to it, Solas chuckles (heh) with a snide remark, when we say we are pleased to meet him and Cassandra’s frustration at his arrogant charisma is so endearing, for both characters. (Cassandra and Varric, have genuinely some of the best character interactions of the entire series, I will fight anyone on that).

~

Moving ahead since more of the dialogue after meeting Harding and Neve, is mainly, taking about state of Minrathous and needing to stop Solas. We reach the ritual site in the Arlathan forest... Before confronting the Dreadwolf, can either choose to support or convince against Varric talking Solas down. Regardless of choice, he still goes on head.

Varric is a man whose friends have become his family. He feels that he must try at the very least talk with Solas. Though it does go against his reactions to Solas being an agent of Fen'Harel; back in Trespasser (but I think the team kind of forgot most of the character motivations they established…).

Regardless Varric confronts Solas while the team try to stop the ritual and hold off the demons. Though I hate the result, I kind of liked the scene at first, Varric’s cheeky grin calling Solas, ‘Chuckles’ was a great touch. Especially since the two did have slight back and forth friendship in dai.

& the reaction Solas has when he sees Varric is excellent, first annoyance at who would dare distract him, then shock with a little bit of sadness when it sees who it is, but then returns into haughty determination.

But I think this is indicative how better the characters of the prior games and the weight of established relationships are from this scene. Like if Veilguard is your first game in the series, this entire scene means practically nothing other than, a super intense moment between ex-friends (where the world is at stake).

But gravitas of these two characters, the performances of their actors and the tiny shred of decent writing. Probably tricks a lot of newcomers into thinking this will be a far deeper story than it actually is…

So, after a back-and-forth, Solas will not see reason and Varric aims Bianca and Solas destroys the crossbow (I’m still devastated at the loss of such an iconic weapon). During which the ritual is disrupted, Varric attempts to stop it further by attempting to grab the ritual dagger from Solas’s, in turn Solas stabs Varric. He falls, and we are uncertain of his fate. Ancient elves Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan escape the fade and Rook loses consciousness.

The Rest of the Game:

After the ritual Rook awakens in the Lighthouse, to see a bandaged-up Varric. He looks awful and is noticeably in pain. But something is bizarre, something doesn’t seem right, his tone is off, it’s unnatural.

Other companions, seem to speak or react to him. I kept thinking why doesn't any look at him. No scenes of characters visiting him, to see how he's feeling. Nothing.

Let me tell you before I learned the truth, I was so fucking relieved to see he was alive. After all the dodgy trailers, on which Bianca being destroyed. I was just so happy to see him alive, that I didn’t see the signs. I thought maybe we would check in on him over time and watch him heal. Maybe there would be point before the end where we see him hang up his leather duster and return to Kirkwall as Viscount accepting that his adventuring days are at end. & in turn pass on the mantle of leadership to this current party. For Rook to step out and up as the new protagonist… But we will get to the full truth later.

So from now till the end Varric has two functions in vg: narrator again, but without the same wit or gravitas of da2.

& sort of back seat hype man, he is mainly resting in a dark corner of the new base, the Lighthouse. His conversations are essentially recaps of main quests, occasional references to the prior games, what the dev. team must have thought were oh so clever hints to Varric’s death (as clever as a cinder block) and then pseudo-HR training about how “Rook is the leader, and you are a part of team, and you got to work together,” yada yada…

Ultimately meaningless moments, awkward and stilled, hamstrung by vg’s blunt force repetitive dialogue.

Now to his final part in this story, close to end game Rook is trapped in a fade prison by Solas (who fell for the dumbest trick, who also can be tricked in return, wtf) they are confronted by companion(s) that were killed during a prior quest.

And here is the big revel, that Varric had died after being stabbed by Solas at the beginning of the game.

The real Varric died at the ritual site…

So, anytime that Rook spoke to him, it was not actually Varric the man, the dwarf, the living person.

Honestly, I do not know entirely what was talking to Rook.

At first, I thought he was illusion created by Solas to fuck with Rook. Maybe a shade made from a spirit (like dai where a spirit &/or Divine Justinia helps the Inquisitor). Or more likely a figment created by Rook from their repressed grief after Varric was murdered. (Honestly this is all embarrassing, like who ever wrote this, along with anyone else who let it go to print should be ashamed of themselves and then fire their therapist...)

They have an awkward come to Jesus’ moment about accepting grief (um, ok) and a stilted, rushed good bye.

(Oh and there is one moment right before the end credits where Varric appears in the clouds like he’s Mufasa or something idk; just a final slap in face before game ushers you out the door.)

~

Final Feelings and Frustrations:

So most of his inclusion of the game was not even but a hallucination, a mere idealistic interpretation of him, always supportive, always accepting, and empty.

A fandoms interpretation, a wasteful dev. teams idea.

Used as ‘character development’ for a mediocre protagonist.

Rook is as heroic as wet rag and as interesting as a rubber dumbbell.

What a tragic waste of one of the series most iconic characters…

-

Varric being killed off and used a lesson in accepting grief, was one of the most meaningless acts of literal character assassination and emotional manipulation I have ever seen a team of writers pull in some fucking time.

I would not be surprised if that was Bioware's excuse for not wanting to write anything more complicated or interesting. That they only did it for a cheap cameo and had Varric be a sacrificial lamb to create ‘tension’ between Rook and Solas.

Which can I just say for a dev. team as notoriously ‘chronically online’, the fact that they couldn’t see how a loud subset of the fandom, who are willing to forgive literally any if not all of Solas’s actions, including being involved in the death Varric, another fan favorite, is cosmically laughable.

Solas’s could turn an entire box of puppies to stone and he would be forgiven at large; esp. if it was framed as him doing it for the sake of the Elvhenan. Like please be real Bioware, you made a sympathetic villain. Fucking own up to it, you guys could not have been this delusional (though your interviews do say otherwise).

It is sooo bizarre, like does this current team even like these characters (the series even), supposedly in the development in the prior games, Varric was constantly being talked about like his time was up (like why, you made him a charming fella, what are players supposed to do, not want to friends with the guy!). They even had very early ideas for a dlc where you could romance him (I will morn this loss forever), but that he would potentially die at the end… (fml)

Hell, even Solas in this game; that was once titled as ‘Dreadwolf’. has this constant feeling from the writing that the team both adores him but also fucking hates him. Like, “Please keep talking bald elf man you have so many fans willing to pay full retail price; but also shut the hell up and begone to the shadow dimension!”

I mean, I am not a huge fan of Solas personally, but I am genuinely surprised at how many of his actual fans could be okay with Bioware’s meager crumbs. (idk toxic positivity, maybe sunk cost fallacy)

Like at one point this guy was THE main antagonist and beyond! Elven spies, manipulating nations, sowing discord to the create the perfect environment to tear down the Veil! But nope, just nothing really. Stuck in the Fade, being a big sad boy.

Strikingly bland here, esp. in comparison to the real intensity brought forth at the end of Trespasser.

[Bonus: After her threat in dai, I would not be surprised if Bianca found a way of going into the fade just so she could beat the ever-loving shit out of Solas (and all Inquisitors) for getting Varric killed.]

~

An Idea for a Thematic Polarity:

Of clinging to the nostalgic past, how to accept a conflicted present & to move forward into an uncertain future.

Solas is a person fixated on the ideal of a post-Elvenuris past. A past that never actually came to be and desires to bring it to fruition, even if means potentially destroying world. He even dissociates from the people of the ‘Dragon Age’ because, he cannot visualize them a fully fledge people. This can change, but he still goes for it. He knows there will untold death and destruction, but refuses to let go of the world before. In a better written story, he could’ve still becoming one with the Veil. After further being confronted by the reality that you cannot return the past, not like it once was. But let go for the sake of protecting those who live here and now, to go on, learn the past and make a better world for everyone.

Varric also clings to the past; even his place as a storyteller is him dramatizing, sensationalizing events, real or otherwise. He glosses over painful memories, adjusts for the audience (but mostly himself). But he is also a man who has not abandoned the present or even the future. He lives still gathering info. for his next bestseller. He is deeply conserved for the living; friends, citizens of Kirkwall and beyond. And if there is nothing to be done, we might as well take a break for now and play a round of Wicked Grace.

The team could have done things much different in the finale to Varric. They could have Varric be (actually) injured during the ritual. After which he decides to retire, he is not getting any younger and returns to Kirkwall as Viscount. Passing the torch to the next generation of heroes and storytellers.

He has sort of given up on Solas, not his friend, (he will always care about his friends) but in the hunting of the Dreadwolf, the two Elven ‘gods’ and their double-Bight. He could continue working to make Kirkwall into a bastion of the Free Marches, improving the lives of the citizens and the city he takes so much pride in.

(well ignoring the destruction of Southern Thedas, god so pointless and vindictive on the part of the devs…)

He could have still been the narrator but from a tangible distance. Only retelling it from second hand accounts, etc.

Or maybe just a lore drop, a supportive letter that finds it's way to Rook with some words of encouragement.

But all that is for head-cannons, fanfictions and fan art.

~

So with that, moving forward I think I am going to be a little of both, I will go into the future, beyond the disappointments of Bioware and The Veilguard. To different studios and new series.

But I will still continue to always love and enjoy, Varric Tethras and the Dragon Age Trilogy.

Thank you very much, either to the void or to any one for taking the time to read this mess.

[amoreva]

FEIGNING FOR YA’

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

CHAPTER 1

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: as a little childish act of rebellion, you try dating your friend, Luke Castellan, to really piss off your parents (for a actual real reason, not the small things they hate). what was supposed to be no strings attached turned into a little more than just childish revenge.

warnings: slow burn, college au, smau, fake dating to dating, cursing, clarisse x chris, aged up! pjo charcters, yn is older sister figure to percy, luke and thalia are older sibling figures to annabeth

a/n: i have re-written this one too many times and am still in the process of revising and proofreading to give you guys the best condition of the start of this fic series! So sorry for the delay!

series list | next

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“Are we still friends?”

“What?”

“Can we be friends?”

“After all of this?”

“After all of this.”

It would be a disastrously great story to tell your grandkids (if you had grandkids). Quite embarrassing really, telling someone about how naive and oblivious you were (still are.)

It was spring. The flowers in full bloom. Allergies spreading like wildfire due to pollen. Thankfully, it was raining cats and dogs, so no stuffy noses tonight. You decided to come back from your hometown two days before spring break ended. As much as you were homesick after spending so long at college, your family made you feel homesick for college.

It was torturous. Questions and questions about your college life were thrown at you left and right. From potentially having a significant other to your major that you were taking to who you were friends with to being disappointed in your college major to asking about your grades to being disappointed you party to just being disappointed.

All in all, truly you loved your family. Really, you do. Your aunt made great pastries. Your dad a great cook. Your uncle made really funny (bad.) jokes. Yet, they found some way to critic your every decision and move you make. You hated it.

Your shoes squeaked on tiled stairs. Lugging up your suitcase, you just prayed you didn’t fall. The tiles were wet because people’s shoes were wet. You did not want to pay a hospital bill after barely paying for college.

By the time you got to your dorm, you were already half asleep, running on an overpriced yogurt parfait from the airport. The soft comforter of your bed calling out to you like a siren’s song.

You were lulling off to dreamscape when a loud ominous creak filled the silence. “C’mon. You gotta be better than that. Lock your doors.” Luke’s “charming” voice replaced your peace. “Some creep could waltz in and kidnap you in your sleep.”

“Supposed you’re that creep?”

Luke has been attached to your hip since highschool, freshman year. Both of you have suffered through each other’s numerous cringy phases (only to bring them up for the annual birthday post on instagram).

He was one of the friends your parents despise. They always ranted about how they’ve been a bad influence to you since highschool.

“Depends.” The bed dipped under his weight. “Do you think you look okay enough to go out?”

“I guess, but I feel disgusting.” You answered. Confusion swimming through your mind. Where was Luke going with this?

“Are you upset because of a recent event?”

“Kinda.”

“Upset enough to stay holed up the whole evening?” Luke rephrased.

“No.”

“Okay.” Decision.

You heard his windbreaker swish as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Luke!” Like a bag of potatoes you were tossed over his shoulder. “You fucking—!”

He grabbed what he was originally came in your dorm for and exited. Silena, Chris and Clarisse were waiting for Luke and now, you. “Welcome back!” Silena said, masking her shock.

No one knew you were coming back home early and Luke wasn’t surprised. As much as you wanted to stay in your dorm and sleep, you were glad to be with your friends.

The restaurant was loud and lively. The rain ceasing. College students were celebrating their final few days before classes started up again. The occasional drunks here to watch the multiple football games going on. Your friend group chose to celebrate.

The dim lighting was a stark contrast to the bright TVs that played various football and soccer games. Drinks slid down the bar into the awaiting consumer’s hand. Alcohol got everyone in a better mood during the night (though the same cannot be said the morning after).

A waiter placed down the five shots Luke had ordered, in toast of your unexpected return and the final days of spring break. The shot glasses made a tiny clink before the liquid burned your throat. It left a warm feeling in your chest.

Silena and Clarisse went to take photos via Chris the cameraman. The three went out to the porch of the restaurant bar. You opted out and Luke stayed with you. You weren’t exactly in the nicest clothes.

Another round of shots were placed on the table. Luke ran his fingers through his curls and checked his phone. “What’s bothering you?” He asked.

“What?” You tore your gaze from the two girls and looked at Luke.

“You said you were upset about something, but not too upset to not go out.” Luke explained. “Better to get it off your shoulders than to bottle it up.”

You roll your eyes at his last sentence and sat up in the cushioned restaurant chair. “Family.” Luke laughed a little at that. He’s known how perfect your family wants you to be.

You shove your face into your hands as if you were reliving the reunion all over again. “I didn’t even do anything bad or get in serious trouble this time!”

Luke nodded along slowly, taking in your every word. You can’t tell what he’s thinking as you continue on your little rant. Yet his face shifts as you rant.

“Why are your grades like that?”

“I saw your Instagram post. Drinking? Really?”

You parrot some of the questions your family said to you, with their fake smiles and judgmental eyes. You were old enough to drink! “And then they started talking my ear off about you all. Clarisse! Thalia, you—Silena and Chris” The list goes on. Luke knows it. You know it.

“Why are you friends with that temperamental girl? Lord knows the trouble you’ll be roped into with her.” You mocked your parents, aunts and uncles’ words. “I don’t like how that Thalia girl. Too rebellious, disrespectful too!”

“That one girl is an airhead. Head in the clouds.”

“Don’t get me started on that Luke boy again.”

“Get better friends.”

“Maybe you hang out with a different group.”

“They piss me off! And well maybe they’re concerned about my wellbeing, but—they keep harping me about everything little thing I do.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes exhausted. “Which is why I came back early.”

“So piss them off.” Like that was the hardest thing you do. You unintentionally trigger their judgmental side without even trying.

“What?”

“It’s what I do to my dad. I piss him off most of the time when he tries to come back.” Luke shrugged. “If they hate all of us so much. Date one of us, shit—date me, you’ve known me the longest. I think they’d be pretty pissed about you dating a bad influence.”

“That’s so childish.” You commented, but it was good, but it could work. Rebellion never hurt anyone that bad. Well, maybe your aunt will have a “heart attack”, but it should be fine.

And you were out of options to try and get your family off your back.

So the next afternoon, when Clarisse was out, Luke and you sat on your bed and conjured up a contract for this temporary relationship; a day before break was over.

“I don’t see why we need a contract.” Luke sipped on a juicebox. The sunlight providing a nice atmosphere in your dorm room.

“I saw it work on a show I watched kinda.” You whispered the word “kinda” under your breath. It was a long time since you’ve seen the show.

Luke raised an eyebrow and set the empty juice box on your desk. “So…uh—terms and conditions.” You typed out on a Google doc in big bolded letters. How do you start this?

“We could “date” from now until the start of summer? I think that is a long enough rebellion.” You suggested and looked at Luke. “I have to go back home for Easter and my little sister’s birthday, but then I have that family trip in summer…”

“Sure.” Luke agreed.

You looked at him silently asking him to elaborate. “From now until that family trip is over. I’ll go to Easter, the birthday and the trip.”

“You aren’t trying to mooch off me for the trip are you?”

Luke slid the computer to him and typed out the first terms and conditions. He ignored your question with a smile and a shake of his head. “You have to come with me when it’s Mother’s Day though.”

You agreed to that relatively quickly. Your mom and dad were always out of town that day. “I’m fine with kissing on the cheek and forehead and holding hands, if you are?”

“What? No lips?” Luke teased with a grin.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.” You muttered in embarrassment.

“Fine, no lips.” You were slightly surprised Luke didn’t tease you for not having your first kiss yet. He typed it on the computer. “And no sex.”

“No sex.” You agreed. “And we cannot let the others know. They’ll start talking and then it’ll get to my family somehow—”

“Okay…no sex and no talking about the fake relationship.” Luke chucked and typed it on the computer. “This seems good enough for a contract right?” He still thinks the contract is stupid.

You smack his shoulder. “This is serious, Luke! If I wanna piss of my parents I have to do it right.”

“Okay, sweetie.” He spoke sarcastically and typed his name at the end of the document. You did the same. “But there is no right way to piss off someone. You just do.”

After signing the temporary dating contract, Luke and you talked about the story of how you got together.

Luke and you supposedly have had some unrequited feelings during highschool. Both of you began talking over spring break after a drunk conversation and decided to give dating a shot.

Then, there was the fact that Luke and you had to announce the relationship. So, social media it was. Which prompted you to grab his hand. “Where are we going?” Luke asked as he was dragged off your bed.

“A cafe.” You held his hand, fingers lacing together. “I’m hungry after all that and it would be great publicity if we went out holding hands.”

“Whatever you say.” Luke rolled his eyes, though he didn’t mean it. “Then I guess I’ll be the good boyfriend and pay.”

“Really?” You asked and looked back at him.

He shrugged. “Why not.”

Luke and you held hands and talked about whatever came to mind. Like you usually did as bestfriends. He opened the cafe door for you and paid for your food and drink.

Maybe “dating” Luke won’t be the worst thing ever. Rebelling doesn’t seem to be all that bad now. Maybe everything will turn out fine. You rebel against your perfect family and Luke will get a free trip as a reward. Yeah, you’re sure things will turn out okay. Maybe.

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melancholia | (mechanic!harry part 3)

Summary: Part 1 Part 2 The date with Niall, and picking your car up after it's done. But it gets more complicated than that.

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing, brief mention of abuse

i will be working on your car this evening, would you like to hang out?

You had saved Niall's number as soon as you had gotten in the car with Mia, and he was really putting it to good use.

You had been in your office, a pen between your teeth as you read the agendas for the upcoming projects that had been assigned for your team. Your phone vibrated, and you saw Niall's text pop up. You immediately swiped up, opening his chat.

You smiled, in awe of how subtly he had asked you out.

sure! would love to. at what time should i come?

His response was spontaneous too.

as soon as you get off work. when do you get off work?

You calculated a bit in your head. If you got off work ealy, and reached the garage by the bus, Mia could pick you up after you were done. Or, she could drop you at the garage and then you would have to take the bus home.

The previous idea was better. That would mean you would get off work at 5, and Mia would be around 6-6:30? Perfect.

just a little before 5. can reach the garage by 5:15

Niall typed quickly, before getting back ro work so Harry wouldn't kick his ass.

that's perfect. will see you at 5:15. have a great day at work! :)

You smiled, keeping your phone down and focusing back to th me task in hand. You were going to be on a date in a garage. With Harry nearby.

He definitely wouldn't like that.

. . .

You reached the garage at a little over 5:15, and as you walked from the bus, you could feel your heart beating loudly. It had been ages since you had dated and gone on dates. Most of them would be dinner, or a coffee place, or a movie. But a garage? Never.

Niall was nowhere to be seen outside, so you went in, looking for him. Harry was sitting by the tiny reception they had, and vigorously scribbling something on a paper while his one hand was on his forehead. The computer in front of him was on, and you could see he had the brightness up too much, the light was shining on his face so prominently.

You decided to go to say hi.

You walked nervously to him, mentally preparing yourself to be scolded or cursed at by him. He was not in a good mood, and he would definitely not appreciate you troubling him, or you and NIall having a date here instead of working. You wondered if he told him that too.

You reached his table, and stood in front of him. He was still engrossed in his work.

“Hi” you murmured softly, and he shot his eyes up. His face was still the same: anger, frustration, grumpiness, that was always there.

“What?”

“Hi” you repeat yourself, but softly this time. He narrowed his eyes at you, looking at you up and down, and then got back to his paperwork.

“What?” he said a minute later.

“I-I just came by to say hi”

He looked up at you again, this time with more frustration.

“Hi. Are you done?”

Your lips frowned, and you quickly answered, “Yeah. Sorry for-for bothering you”

“You should be”

Turning around, you went back, and saw Niall sitting at a chair. 

“Hey, I was waiting for you, it’s almost 5:25”

“Yeah-I-went in to say hi to Harry”

“You didn’t say hi to me” he smiled, and you walked over to him, sitting at the other chair he had placed nearby.

“You were nowhere to be seen, and-I thought he might know and-I now regret going in in the first place”

“That’s alright, I was just doing a coffee run. Fancy some?”

You smiled, “Yeah, sure”

He made you decaf, which you insisted on after telling him that you had to be up all night doing some work. He was quite cool, talking to you about your day, even letting you rant about your work and how life had been shit lately after you had moved out.

He was a good listener. But you wanted to get to know him too.

'So, what do you do for fun besides fixing cars?' 

'Well, I love to play guitar and write songs and stuff,' Niall replied, a hint of shyness in his voice.

'Really? That's so cool! I've always wanted to learn how to play an instrument,' you exclaimed.

Niall smiled, 'I could teach you if you'd like. Maybe we could even write a song together.'

Your heart skipped a beat at his offer. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him and how he didn’t judge you or immediately dislike you just because you talked more than him. He just sat there all cute, with a smile on his face listening to whatever you told him.

“You know, you're not like any other mechanic I've met. You're so kind and respectful. You really love what you do, don't you?” you asked, looking at him with admiration.

“I do. I've loved cars since I was a kid. It's my passion,” Niall replied with a smile.

It was refreshing to meet someone who truly loved their work.

As the sun began to set, you realized it was time to head home, Mia would be here to pick you up soon. 

“I had an amazing time today, Niall. Thank you for everything,” you smiled up at him.

“It was my pleasure. I had a great time too,” Niall replied, his blue eyes sparkling.

As she rode the car home, you couldn't stop smiling. You had gone on a date in a garage, were picked up by your friend like it was a playdate, and still had one of the best dates in a while. He promised you a next one too, and you were looking forward to that.

.     .      .

(A week later)

Niall had called you, telling you your car was done. You were happy, but then Mia told you her roommate was going to be back today. 

With a long face, you took a cab to the garage. You kept your checkbook,and also some spare change with you.

On the ride, your mind was a mess. You would have to move back in your car, but what if you asked Niall to let you live with him? He told you he had two roommates he lived with, and you just needed a week before your paycheck would come in, and you would pay back your previous landlord, move back into your old apartment.,

Fingers crossed, you were hoping he would say yes.

At the garage, you wrote the check waiting for one of them to come out, and when no one did, you went in to find Harry.

"I'm not having this fucking conversation. I came to you 6 months ago and settled it all, didn’t I? I did that so I don’t have to do this shit on the phone with you. You understand? You fucking moron-”

Harry stopped yelling as soon as he saw you, a shocked expression on your face at his words. Your body had gotten tense and scared, the way he just yelled, making you shiver.

“What?” he spat, still pent up and frustrated from his conversation on the phone.

You stammered, still shocked by his demeanor, “I-I, nothing” you said quickly, turning around and running away from him.

Niall caught you on your way out, just the man you were looking for. 

“Hey, Niall! What’s up?” standing in front of him, you said in a high-pitched voice, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What’s up? Really?”

You slumped down, gulping down as you said, “Sorry. I-went inside to ask Harry where you were and he was all yelling and screaming and I-I got scared”

“Oh, he’s always like that on the phone. Don’t worry, you get used to it” he shrugged it off, but you were still pretty shaken. The way there was a nerve bulging on his forehead, his jaw clenching, the death grip he had on the phone…ooph.

“Anyways here’s my bill, and I was wondering if-you know, if you’re free, we could have dinner tomorrow”

His eyes lit up, taking the cheque from you,and he asked, “Oh yeah? What’s tomorrow”

“It’s-it’s thanksgiving” you said with a smile on your face, hoping he would say yes.

On the contrary, his smile disappeared as soon as you mentioned thanksgiving, and he put his hands on his waist.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Y/n, But-I have to go home tomorrow. Holiday with my family and all” he scratched his forehead, and the awkwardness began to grow.

“Oh-oh. It’s alright” you quickly brushed it off, not wanting to make him feel guilty for spending time with his family.

He took your hand in his, an apologetic look on his face, “I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am. I-it slipped off my mind completely. I have to book tickets now too. Or my mum will kill me” he chuckled,trying to lighten the mood, and you put a smile on your face.

“No, it’s perfectly fine. Besides, you should go home once in a while. Don’t have to be stuck with that yelling boss all day”

“Yeah”

You both fell silent, and after a minute, he spoke up.

“So, do you need anything else?” he asked.

“No, no it’s fine. You go home”

He nodded, going to pick up his stuff and change his clothes. 

“I’ll give this to Harry,” he said, mentioning the cheque. You nodded, and he left.

You sighed. Mia’s roommate was back, and you would have to move out tomorrow. Couldn’t she have just stayed there one more day?

You picked up your purse, and the car keys. If you had gone out with him tomorrow, you would’ve asked him to let you stay at his house for a week or so, after which you would get your salary, pay your landlord,, just so he would let you move in.

Now, it was all down the drain, and you were back to living in your car.

Walking to the car, you opened the driver’s seat, getting in. Your stuff was to be picked up from Mia’s, and then you would have to drive to a safe place to park your car.

Putting the keys in the ignition, you turned it, and your eyes went to the fuel indicator.

It was almost empty.

You got out of the car, hoping that Niall wouldn’t have left, so you could buy a bottle of fuel.

Sadly, he had.

His stuff was gone, and you would have to ask Harry. You didn’t even want to see him after the way he treated you before

You knocked on the tin nearby, getting his attention before you walked to his table. He looked up, and he seemed at ease. So much better than the angry bird he was before.

“What?”

“I wanted to buy a bottle of fuel.”

He sighed, closing the book he was writing on and got up. You followed him as he walked back to the shop, fetching a 3 liter bottle for you.

“This?”

“Yeah”

You paid him, taking it from him and keeping it beside you.. He didn’t seem to have any plans for thanksgiving, and you assumed his family didn’t live here. So, why wasn’t he going back home?

“So, you got any plans for thanksgiving?” you asked, and his face stiffened. He seemed angry, and you regretted asking him immediately.

“Why?” he asked with a stern voice.

“Coz-you don’t seem to have any plans for tomorrow, and-I think your family doesn’t live here, so why-”

“Just stop right there, okay?” 

His voice was harsh, and he was ready to yell at you once again.

“Why do you have to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong? Huh? What I do-” he spat, taking a step towards you, pointing at himself, “-is none of your damn business. If I go, if I don’t, if I have a family, or I don’t-that is none of your fucking business, okay? So just take your broken car, and get the hell out of here”

You were shivering by now, heavy breaths falling in small puffs as you took a step back, your legs stiffened and shivering. It had been years since you had been yelled at like this by a man.

“I’m sorry,-” you mumbled, turning around and running back as fast as you could. Tears were falling out of your eyes, and you had to practically tell your legs to move as fast as they could. Once inside, you quickly turned the keys, turning on the ignition, and speeding away as fast as you could. To your best luck, it started raining.

The rain was pouring down relentlessly, and you could barely see through the windshield. But your mind was in a frenzy, replaying the scene over and over again. You couldn’t believe that he had yelled at you like that, and the harsh words he had said stung like a knife. Why did you even bother trying to talk to him? Why did you always have to interfere in other people’s lives? You knew it would only end up hurting you in the end. 

Your heart was racing, and you could feel your chest tightening with every breath. As you drove, your mind kept going back to that moment when he had pointed at himself, telling you that his life was none of your business.

You knew that, you did very well. You thought maybe, just maybe, talking about his family would get him to be softer, sweeter, but you were wrong. He was always the pent-up asshole, and nothing was going to change him.

After a mile or two, the rain had started to slow down, and you saw where you were going. It seemed like a highway, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to get away from him.

You took a quick look at the fuel indicator, and that was when it all came crashing down once again.

The fuel had run out. 

You had dropped the bottle beside you in the garage, and in his fit of rage, he didn’t even care that you left it there. You just ran to your car, not caring about the fuel and just drove off. Now, you would have to stay inside your car, in the middle of nowhere, and then call someone tomorrow morning.

You turned off the engine and leaned back into the seat, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t know what to do now. You were stranded, alone, and afraid. 

You were so cold and wet, your teeth chattering as you huddled in the backseat. You locked all the doors and windows, hoping that would keep you safe. But deep down, you knew it probably wouldn’t. 

Tears streamed down your face, and you curled up into a ball, trying to keep warm as you fell into a fitful sleep. The rain continued to pour outside, and you could feel yourself getting sicker by the minute. It was so so cold, the cool air blowing outside, and all you were wearing was one layer of thin clothes.

Meanwhile, Harry had finished his work and realized that you had left without taking the fuel. He grabbed his hair in frustration, angry at himself for letting you go like that. He knew he should have stopped you, but his emotions had gotten the best of him. 

He couldn’t believe how out of control he had become. He had never acted like that before, and he knew he needed to find you and make things right. He quickly grabbed his keys and headed out in search of you. He didn’t know where you could have gone, but he was determined to find you. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you because of his actions.

It was about an hour later when you heard a knock on the window. You jumped, your heart racing as you saw Harry’s face peering in. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, looking concerned. 

“I-I ran out of fuel,” you stammered, wiping away your tears. Harry’s expression softened, and you quickly unlocked the door. Hehelped you out of the car. “You’re freezing,” he said, wrapping his jacket around you. “Come on, let’s get you inside and warmed up.” He led you to his car and drove you to his home. You didn’t even have the energy to protest or ask questions. You just wanted to be warm and safe. 

As you sat in front of the fireplace, Harry made you some hot tea and brought you a blanket. He sat next to you, looking at you with a mix of anger and guilt in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “I should have known better than to let you leave in that state. I’m such an idiot. I-I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, I’m sorry” 

“No, it’s not your fault,” you said, your voice weak. “I should have been more careful.” Harry shook his head. “I’m the one who fixed your car. I should have checked everything before letting you go.” The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the crackling of the fire. 

“You can stay here for the night,” Harry finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll take care of the car tomorrow and make sure it’s all fixed up. You can have it back then. This time, I’ll fill up the fuel tank too.” 

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Harry gave you a small smile before getting up and heading to the kitchen. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were so afraid of him, and now he was taking care of you in his own home. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just a dream. 

But, Harry’s thoughts were far from a dream. He couldn’t stop staring at your peaceful face, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. All the events of the day ran through his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he had made the right decision in bringing you here. 

He noticed a single strand of hair resting on your cheek, and he couldn’t resist the urge to brush it away. He reached out and gently slid it off your face, careful not to wake you. But as his fingers grazed your skin, he felt a spark of electricity. He knew it was wrong, you and Niall had a thing going on, and it would be disrespectful of him to even think about you in that way. But as he looked at you, he couldn’t deny the feelings that were bubbling up inside of him. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling guilty for his actions. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

But you were fast asleep, and didn’t hear his words. And he definitely didn’t feel wrong for what he did.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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| Pronouns: She/Her/

| Orientation: Lithromantic

| Main Fandom: Solo Leveling, Love and Deepspace, HYV games, Wuthering Waves

| A fellow Tarot Reader !!!!

| Kinnies: Kaveh and Zhezhi

╰ ➤ MBTI: INFP, RLUEN, Noncurious, Melancholic-Phlegmatic🌸

🌊 ☆ ⋆ ｡ 🪼 𖦹 ° ‧ ★ 🐚

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| 성진우 내 아기💜

| Sung Jinwoo and Dr Zayne enthusiast

| Danmei Reader, Manhwa/Manhua Reader

| Artist: I draw a lot !!!

| Lots of Ocs !!!!

| Plays the Kalimba: I named him Bingbing ♡

| Loves the ocean a lot despite the fact I'm not a Rafayel girlie

| Listening to: .... Enhypen, Alien Stage, Chogakusei

╰ ➤ This User is A Yumejoshi (Self-insert/Oc x Canon)

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✦♡ 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 with Kyunnie ━━━━ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

| YES : Do talk about me about your day, interesting things, random brainrots, silly thoughts, headcanons

| NO : Please do not rant in my inbox randomly and send harmful texts I am uncomfortable with a lot of stuff involving the opposite of positivity and substances. Including depictions of suicide, self-harm or anything involving with poor mental health. It's not that I don't care or anything it's just that I am easily triggered and it makes me recall harmful memories. Please get professional help if you have symptoms. Although I enjoy headcanons of drunk Jinwoo DOES NOT EQUATE to me liking irl substances!!!

| Just Because I'm an adult does not mean I enjoy adult pleasures !!!

| Please do not tag me randomly in your fics with no permission. If you asked permission and I said no. Then no. I like supporting authors but by forcing yourself down my throat you're destroying future friendships.

| Do not message me just to say "Please support my works" ><. Again, you're destroying future friendships. Do not message me to do inputs in your own story because it is your own creation. It comes off as a bit rude to ask for opinions randomly I'm sorry.

| Requests: NOT OPEN AS I HAVE A LOT TO DEAL WITH PLEASE DO NOT SEND ME REQUESTS FOR FICS

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✦♡ More Stuff ━━━━ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

🌸 Click Here for Jinwoo Bots 🌸

🌸 Art Commissions: Open 🌸

✦♡ JINWOO MASTERLIST ━━━━ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Sung Jinwoo x Cuddly SO

Sung Jinwoo x Introvert SO

Sung Jinwoo: Boyfriend Hcs

Sung Jinwoo x Male! Reader Who He Thought Was a Girl For Years

Sung Jinwoo: Comfort

Sung Jinwoo! Two Hearts x Gn! Reader: Twice To Love You More

Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Isekaid! Mage! Reader

Sung Jinwoo! NSFW! hcs

Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Reader

Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader! S-Ranker S/O

Sung Jinwoo x Reader Having A Panic Attack

Sung Jinwoo x Bubbly Reader

Sung Jinwoo Assassin Au: Part 1

Idol Au Sung Jinwoo

Sung Jinwoo Boyfriend Hcs: Part 2

Part 1:One-Sided Love: In Which, you realize Jinwoo was always for Hae-In

Part 2: One-Sided Love: In Which, you realize Jinwoo was always for ???...

Malewife! Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Reader : High school Love!!!

Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Reader: Holding Hands

Sung Jinwoo x Drunk Fem!Reader

Valentines Day Special Fic

Part 1: Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader

Part 2: Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader

Yandere! Jinwoo x Best Friend! Reader

Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Player! Reader

Route 1-Loveless Marriage Au: Jinwoo x Reader

Route 2-Loveless Marriage Au: Jinwoo x Reader

Jinwoo Drabbles: Jealous. Jealous. Jealous.

E-rank(?)! Jinwoo x E-rank Witch! Reader

Boyfriend! Jinwoo x Reader

Band Member!Jinwoo x Reader

Part 1: Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader

Part 2: Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader

Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Healing

Jinwoo x Artist! Fem! Reader: Drabbles

Historical Au: Slave!Jinwoo x Noble!Reader

Jinwoo x Nerd! Fem! Reader: Drabbles

Self Aware Jinwoo vs Sylus x Fem! Reader

Jealous! Lovesick! Jinwoo x Fem! Reader

Jinwoo x Fem Reader: Soulmate au

Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader

Jinwoo x Fem! Reader

✦♡ ZAYNE MASTERLIST ━━━━ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Zayne x Fem! Reader: Drabbles

Zayne x Lemurian! Fem! Reader: Ebb Day

✦♡ SPECIAL MASTERLIST ━━━━ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Self Aware Sylus vs Jinwoo x Fem! Reader

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

divider image credit thanks to @/cafekitsune

[alchemistc]

an: I was cleaning out my drafts and ran into this nearly-finished piece of two disasters having their first kiss. Enjoy.

the way you feel when you kiss him for the first time like fire within your bones like your soul has returned to the water like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again

Here’s the thing. So. Like.

He’s kissing Eddie Munson, tongue and everything, hands digging into his crazy fucking hair, face twisted sideways because they’d been sitting there next to each other, close enough that their hips were touching, and Eddie was gesturing with both hands thrown wide, so that every once in a while his hand smacked Steve’s chest on accident and he murmured a quick apology before going back to his story, and Steve fucking loved listening to him rant and rave about whatever he had a bug up his ass about on any given day, he loved it so much and it seemed like the thing to do when you loved something about someone so much it made your chest tight and your head a little fuzzy.

Steve twists his head and slots his tongue over Eddie’s lips and Eddie makes a noise that Steve feels down to his fucking toes and he nips, just a bit, swallows up Eddie’s gasp and curls his fingers around his neck and licks into his mouth.

First kisses are usually either tentative or chaotic, and this one is sloppy as all get out but it’s not – it’s good. It’s so fucking good Steve thinks he could happily fucking die right this second and he wouldn’t even be mad about it. Eddie’s teeth slide along Steve’s lower lip when he sucks said lower lip into his mouth and Steve hums and blows a breath out through his nose and fleetingly imagines their entire lives expanding out before them – tables that for another day when he’s done more than make out with Eddie in the woods behind his house.

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”

It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone.

“What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?”

And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you that way that Eddie looks at him and.

“Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?”

“Whoops?”

Eddie’s on his feet then, his limbs akimbo as he throws his arms out, gesturing vaguely in Steve’s direction, looking at Steve like he’s grown like, three extra heads. Which. Okay so maybe he could have done better at like, explaining what the fuck he was doing but Eddie was so fucking hot when he got really in the zone with some rant or other and Steve’s been like, waiting for him.

“You can’t just go around kissing people, man!”

“I thought you were gay!” Steve says, like that explains a damn fucking thing, and Eddie whirls on him, wild eyed, like Steve’s just shouted some tightly kept secret to the world and… yeah. Alright. Fair.

“I thought you were the straightest fucking dude in America, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Oh,” Steve says, because that, yeah. That tracks. Okay. So. Yeah, he can work with this. 

He runs a jittery hand through his air, glances up at Eddie through a few strands that cut loose from the hairspray. “Yeah uh, so I guess like, no? Chicks are like, great but then here you are being so fucking adorable I wanna like, put you in my fucking pocket to keep you safe and like, take you out on a date and, I don’t know, suck your cock or something. Which is.” 

He’s rambling now, doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“Okay so like I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of this before I fucking went for it but I have been thinking about your lips on my lips for way longer than I have been acknowledging to myself and you weren’t fucking doing anything about it and I just thought I could. Do something about it. So um…no. Not. Not straight.” 

Steve imagines, for a moment, Hawkins High jocks fading out of the shadows to beat the shit out of him, bible thumping mothers intent on letting him know his sins will destroy the country and land him straight in hell, his own father telling him he won’t have a fag for a son. Feels really fucking shitty about it for about thirty seconds and then remembers he’s saved the world at least four times and internally tells them all to go fuck themselves. 

“Hey, is there a word for that? Liking both? Do you – fuck, is there like, a handbook? Do you even know? Did – but then you’re – I mean I definitely for sure got the feeling you and Robin have more in common than just being really great at saving the world, also you for sure kissed me back and – holy shit Robin’s gonna be pissed you found out before she did.”

Eddie stares at him in abject horror for about thirty seconds, but it’s not – it’s not judgy, at least, it’s more like Steve looks at Robin when she word vomits. “Jesus H Christ did you just speed run gay panic?” Which – Robin has explained that before and if Eddie knows about it then he probably also is not…not gay.

“I don’t think I’m strictly gay!” Steve says, his voice a little higher than he’d like but Eddie is pacing now, which. Not conducive to more kissing, and it’s literally all Steve wants to be doing right now. “It might not even be dudes in general, I haven’t gotten any further than you!”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” And pacing be damned, Steve hops up and cages Eddie in again, leans forward for a kiss because he’s not, like, saying no, he’s just confused because he didn’t think Steve was into it and kissing will definitely help him figure it out. Only he rolls his head back, away from Steve’s, shoulders and neck rolling back. The rest of him stays, though, and Steve slots his hands on Eddie’s narrow waist and stares at him. 

“I’m like, super into you, Eddie, and unless I’m suddenly really fucking bad at reading signals you’re also into me.”

Eddie leans forward, rolls his forehead against Steve’s. It’s nice. Not as nice as the kissing had been but…yeah, he’s cool with this. Eddie huffs out a breath of laughter, a self-deprecating little chortle that Steve recognizes and wants to dash away. “I’ve been trying really hard not to throw those signals. Just. Just so you know.”

“You’re really bad at it,” Steve tells him, fingers digging a bit into his side now, his left hand sliding towards Eddie’s back, and he doesn’t really think about it when he exerts a bit of force to drag Eddie a little closer. “To be like, fully clear here. I’m not… I haven’t been misreading, correct?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, those wide dark eyes holding Steve’s. “This is insane. People don’t just wake up one day and go ‘hey I’m actually totally attracted to my own gender and I have literally zero bad feelings about that’ – people kill themselves about it.”

“Nearly died enough times to know I don’t care for it,” Steve tells him, and he really, really wants to fucking kiss him again but probably Eddie needs a second. “Listen, do you like me or not, because if not I am seriously overstepping right now and I don’t actually want to make this weird.”

“This is so fucking weird, man,” Eddie says but then he’s curling his fingers into the end of Steve’s shirt and fisting it there before Steve has a chance to draw back and respect his boundaries, like he’s holding himself back from more but not quite ready to let go. Steve follows his lead. “Did Robin say something?”

“Robin has been literally zero help,” Steve admits, because she really has been fucking useless and cagey and completely unwilling to give him any idea if this whole thing is reciprocated or just a fully fucking unrequited crush. “I am actually pretty emotionally intelligent, so I figured…” God he’s giving Steve that look. Again. “Vibes were there.”

“Vibes.” Eddie says, like he wants to bash his brains in. “You… you just threw all caution to the wind on fucking vibes.”

“Vibes are a thing!”

Eddie curls the hand not already fisting in Steve’s shirt around his waist, his long fingers catching at the stripe of skin exposed by the pull of his shirt. Every thought in Steve’s head feels like it’s centered right there, where he can feel Eddie’s rings warm against his skin.

Steve is like, 97.3 percent certain at this point that he hasn’t just ruined a decently important friendship, and he really, really does want to return to that zenith of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, so he rolls his head again, nosing at Eddie’s cheek, reaching for his jaw.

Eddie shoves him back – slowly, regretfully almost. 

“Give me a fucking second, Harrington.”

“Sure. Yeah.” 

Even as Eddie goes back to pacing Steve feels good about this. Eddie Munson is probably a lot more accepting of things than most of the assholes in Hawkins but he has yet to tell Steve to go fuck himself and he seems more…overwhelmed than anything else. Surprised. He had just admitted he thought Steve didn’t go for that thing. Had he thought about it, beyond a passing ‘Steve the Hair Harrington digs the ladies’?

Jesus. He’s so fucking embarrassing. Even in his own goddamn brain.

Eddie whirls on him, opens his mouth. Shuts it and takes a few pointed steps further away from Steve. Steve very much hates that, but – time. Space. He can manage that. He takes the opportunity to enjoy the pull of Eddie’s jeans over his ass. 

Holy shit, Steve thinks to himself as he ogles the other man, holy shit he’s so very much not straight and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to give Eddie his fucking second. 

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Eddie says, and it’s probably aimed at Steve even though he still hasn’t actually turned back to look at him again. “You fully understand that what you just did screams absolute lunatic, right?”

“The – which part, exactly?”

“Steve, what if I wasn’t gay?”

It’s – kind of a sad question, if he’s being honest, because he’s suspected he likes dudes for maybe two weeks, even if it’s been nagging at him for literal months now, but he’s been that shitty kid who called people queer like it was the dirtiest word in the book, and he’s well aware at this point how fucking scary it is for anyone who is the least bit not ‘normal’ by societies standards. Especially if it’s actually true.

“I mean, I assume you’d probably give me a lot of shit and I would spend a good month too mortified to look at you before you let me off the hook?” But that question gets a little closer to the heart of it, the one thing Steve’s still a little worried about. “But…you are?”

“How the fuck did you even know?”

“The vibes!” He wiggles his fingers at that, widens his eyes like that will help Eddie understand. “And, you know. The general feeling every time you look at me like you’re half a second from eating me alive.”

“I do not!” Eddie says, a little scandalized, a little like he’s been caught out. 

“You totally do. You have…very expressive eyes.” This is new. Just balls to the wall flaying honesty, right off the bat, no hiding behind a slick smile and a clever little wink. What even is flirting, Steve thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I fully thought you were gonna bend me over a table at Gary’s party last weekend.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie says, only he’s still not denying it, and he’s turning those same round shining eyes on Steve and – yeah. That is not a platonic fucking look. “I’m gonna take, like, three steps towards you right now. Can you. Not fucking attack me when I get there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.” Robin and Nancy once ganged up on him to tell him he was basically a golden retriever in human form, and he feels every inch one as Eddie takes long, measured steps towards him. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so fucking hard his ass would be wiggling. 

“Full disclosure,” Eddie tells him at a step and a half in. “I was actually thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off until your soul left your body, at Gary’s party, last weekend.” Steve bites his lip, doesn’t say a word, ignores the heat thrumming in his veins. “Don’t you dare kiss me right now, Harrington,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that is very fucking interesting and Steve would like to explore more.

“Yep. Hands and lips to myself. Gotcha.”

“I also had a massive panic attack about it like five minutes later because you’re the best person I know and I will be fully, absolutely destroyed if I lose you, so. Before I set myself adrift here, are you sure you have a single fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Steve points, just as Eddie takes another step, so his finger ends up right in Eddie’s face and he’s eyeing it like he might just pop it into his mouth. In for a penny… “You got really mad at me when you thought I was avoiding you, and I very much, totally was because I have like, two age appropriate friends and figuring out one of them might be the love of my life threw me for a fucking loop.” Too soon, way too fucking soon, he was supposed to like, at least get Eddie in his bed before he admitted that. “So. I’ve already had that crisis and I know I lied and told you it was nothing but that’s. What that was.”

The look shifts. Eddie’s eyes were already wide, so his expression doesn’t change all that much, but his eyes get a little glassy and the dimple in his cheek twitches. 

“Whoops,” Steve repeats and Eddie gathers up the hand Steve still has between them, guiding the arm down towards Steve’s side, lacing their fingers up together as he gets close enough Steve can feel his breath on his cheek.

“You’re an actual lunatic,” Eddie tells him, but he’s leaning in close, now, curling a hand around Steve’s neck. “Whoops, he says,” and Eddie shakes his head fondly, close enough that the tip of his nose swipes across Steve’s with the movement. “How long?”

“We’re still not kissing, right?” Steve asks, just to clarify, and Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “Yep. Still good with that. Sure. How long what?”

“Don’t play dumb, princess.”

“I mean – are you asking about me? Are you asking about me knowing about you? Are you asking about attraction, or feelings, or…”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and Steve supposes he walked himself into that. He’s still – Steve could count individual lashes dashed across Eddie’s eyelids, he’s so close. 

“Yeah. Alright. Me? Been trying to sort it out for a while, I think, since Vecna. For sure? Two weeks ago, when you made me come watch your campaign finale, or whatever.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with interest, and Steve can see him searching for a specific moment, but it hadn’t been a specific moment, it had been an amalgamation of the last seven months of his life, and watching Eddie in his element, threading together a sweeping close to a tale he’s been working on for a full year, seeing the kids delighted faces, thinking about all the shit they’d been through and all the terrible things they’ve seen, it had all clicked into place. “You? I didn’t know, know. Just. Robin’s always saying there are signs, if you look for them. I hoped. I was looking for them.” 

Had to talk himself into and out of reading into signs multiple times, honestly. 

“I had some very confusing boners before I understood them, so I can’t really pinpoint that one, but a while,” and Eddie’s lips curl up, which is nice. It’s one of his favorite things to do, making Eddie smile like that. “The… I liked you from the start, is the thing, so there isn’t just a single moment but… you remember that night we got up on the roof of the van and got way too fucking high?”

“You couldn’t find the Big Dipper,” Eddie recalls fondly. 

“Yeah, well, you were right there next to me, being all freakishly smart about constellations and looking at me and when you told me about your mom I wanted to just – tear the whole fucking world apart for you. So.”

“So,” Eddie says, and his voice has gone whisper soft and his breath is fanning across Steve’s face and his eyes are big and brown and soft at the edges.

“We’re still doing the no kissing part, right?”

Eddie hums. Tilts his head to the side just a bit, and his nose stripes across Steve’s cheek. “I could probably be persuaded otherwise.”

It’s – he’s –

“If I admit the panic might be coming on now, will you change your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’m very chill about this.”

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is so fucking soft, and his fingers are skittering up the side of Steve’s arm. 

“Freaking out a little bit. Don’t – you can stay here, though.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“While we’re here, you could – I mean I know I said I clocked you pretty easily but if you wanted, I would definitely be okay hearing about – how. How that happened.”

Eddie’s eyes flit up, hold Steve’s. “You lying about anxiety to get me to tell you my dirty secrets?”

“I’m not that smart,” Steve tells him, and Eddie’s smile tilts up at the corners.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap, DocM77, 07/06/24

In which Doc is trapped in the sky and given birthday love and harassment by both his hermit friends and the Chat. He harvests a lot of cherry wood and acquires a valuable moss block after a base tour with Pearl and her llama ends in tragedy. ((I have not recapped the llama tour itself because it is admirably covered in Pearl's video and will probably feature prominently in Doc's Friday video as well.)) False stops by to tease him and Ren pays a visit to hear about Doc's new plan to darken the server with a massive cobblestone ceiling.

9:00 Doc opens his stream in studio view with one minute left on the clock, during the playing of his channel intro song. He headbangs along with the song, declares how great it is, and welcomes the Chat. Today is Doc’s birthday and he is severely emotionally compromised. Not only has everything gone wrong for him in game with losing the court case, it has been one month since his big sub jump and he was not able to stream last week, so his sub count has gone back to 900 from a high of 5000. He specially greets all the single ladies and talks about the chat he had with Ren about there being many single ladies in the stream chats. Ren turned on his facecam to appeal to the single ladies in his stream but feels moral qualms about it. Doc laugh and admit that he is making all of this up. He welcomes the DCP (Doc Collaboration Project, his artist collective) back from TwitchCon in Amsterday

12:00 Doc tells Chat that today he has set the Doccy Fund (now renamed Birthday Fund) to $7777.77 with the assumption that some millionaire will happen into the stream today and fill it up because it is his birthday. If he has learned anything from the court case where he was branded an enormous baby and banished to the sky to beg items off his friends, it is that whining can be effective to get what you want. Chat points out that TwitchCon was in Rotterdam. Doc shrugs this off, he never goes to TwitchCon anyway. A chatter sends a tongue-in-cheek birthday message, Doc admits that he doesn’t really look forward to birthdays anymore because it just means getting older. He decides that from now on he will conceal his real age (notwithstanding the “77” in his handle) and workshops the sexiest age to be with the single ladies in chat. It is now Chat’s job to spread the word that Scar is 48 years old and Doc is 33. Doc starts to tell a joke about how he was looking through the adult ads in the local paper the other day, then abruptly decides he is not going to tell that joke.

13:40 Doc thanks subs and donos. He opens the game and logs into Hermitcraft, where he is on his Skyblock island. Someone has covered his dirt blocks with lit candles and there is a cake with a sign wishing him a happy 77th birthday, with love from Cleo. Doc is initially upset, but calms down when he realizes this is a birthday gift. There is also a sympathetic and condescending message from Skizz telling him that being stuck up here is the only way Doc will reflect on his actions. Given recent events, Doc has to check every inch of his base to make sure nothing has been stolen, after which he can eat some cake. Someone has also named the sheep “Doc’s Only Friend.” Chat thinks that is very funny.

15:30 Doc rants a bit about how all of this is so unfair, then wonders if anyone is going to bring him any useful gifts. What he really needs is some moss blocks so he can make a bonemeal farm. These candles are next to useless and they are making his base too cute. Candles and cake and pink fences take away from the whole Fortress of Solitude look. Doc informs in-game chat that he is online and streaming, and thanks subs and donos. He stares longingly over at his shop, then tells Chat about how yesterday he was filming the outro for his new video and reminds everyone that the new TCG cards are coming out soon, some of them worked on by the DCP. His cards are taking longer than usual because he does not get back to the artists (especially SubToMumbo) with feedback in good time. Chat points out that Doc has already claimed SubToMumbo is his fandom alt. He is hoping for Goatfather and Docmaid as his alter ego cards.

20:00 A chatter says Doc is aging like fine wine. He says that fine wine aging means it just gets more sour, and at his age it means just rotting from the inside. But he wants to do something useful today! He wants to grow more cherry trees, for a start. He begins picking up the candles and lets out a truly headphone-demolishing “NOOOOOOOO” as he accidentally breaks one of his precious dirt blocks and sends it plummeting to earth. Chat is both deafened and bereft. Doc has now lost two dirt blocks and he cannot afford that kind of lack of concentration. He needs to make a lower floor, stat. He shows chat the boat on his hotbar and explains that if he does fall, he’s going to try and boat MLG so he doesn’t touch the ground. He also blames Chat for the loss of the dirt block.

22:20 Despite the setback, Doc has plans for today which include growing cherry trees both for wood and to collect leaves for his composter. He’s down to 15 iron blocks now and really needs an iron farm, but he still has the shears he used to cut leaves for the cobble farm. A chatter makes a large gift of subs, which makes Doc feel a lot better. He tells Chat that what he wanted for his birthday IRL was just to go out to dinner with Karin. She works for a newspaper and got an insider tip about a restaurant that is about to get a Michelin star but that is currently not overexposed and still has good prices. They went there and had a lovely meal. Doccy was there too and behaved very well, asking frequently “Papa, am I fancy?” Doccy was extremely popular and got free dessert. Chat thinks this story is adorable. Doc doesn’t typically want to bribe for good behavior with sweets, but he made an exception this once. He also got a card and little present from Doccy, who is left-handed and still writes upside-down.

27:20 A cherry tree grows, big skyblock excitement! Doc thanks subs and donos, who are being quite generous this morning. He says this birthday is great, makes him forget he’s trapped in Skyblock. Chat is much better than YouTube commenters, who can still be obnoxious after all the years Doc’s been dealing with them. One commenter on the new video went on a super-obnoxious rant about how Doc isn’t smart because he didn’t make a giant grass platform to easily spawn all the friendly mobs he could need for food and wool. Doc walks to the edge of the platform and looks out over the vast, grassy world spread out beneath him and points out that this is not actually Skyblock, he is not playing in an empty void where animals have only one place to spawn. Chat joins him in mocking the commenter.

29:20 Doc says someone told him he could plant a golden carrot for regular carrots. Chat tells him that is not a thing. Doc tries it anyway. It does not work. He thanks subs and donos, then begins harvesting his new trees. Today is Day 3 of Doc’s Skyblock exile, and the plan is mostly chill. Doc doesn’t want to build anything very big on stream because he wants to save big tech jumps for the video, but he can grind out some resources for those things. Doc tells the story of why he could not stream last week: Karin was sick and Doccy wanted to go to the swimming pool, and family always comes first. But Doc really is trying to keep his consistent streaming schedule so he can build subs and avoid having to take product endorsements. Chat is supportive of Doc’s priorities.

35:30 Doc shears leaves and talks about his Skyblock experience so far. Docs feels a lot of pressure due to his technical Minecraft skills to always be pushing forward on everything, including Skyblock. A lot of people expect him to be going full-bore even starting from nothing, and there’s some pressure there to perform. He tells Chat that the Hivemind is currently extremely busy with the jump to 1.21 and there is some very exciting and confusing stuff coming up! He can’t talk too much about it until it is ready to display on video, because the Technical Minecraft community is very competitive and even a whiff of a clue will get everyone looking in the same direction for the next new thing. He tells Chat elaborate lies about his text-to-voice mod and about the single ladies sliding into his DMs, then admits it’s all a lie and everyone knows he has a partner. But he has checked on a few of the more active “single ladies” in chat just to make sure they are actually adults.

43:00 Doc uses up his shears well before he runs out of leaves and resorts to just chopping the rest of the cherry wood. Chat suggests hitting Mumbo up for some more iron. Doc points out that even without actual checking, some people are active enough in the community over the years that you learn what they look like and their basic facts just from longevity and proximity. Some of Doc’s chatters have been around for 10+ years. “StalkM77,” jokes Chat. A chatter asks why Doc doesn’t just waterstream down and grab his gear from his chest. Doc says he could probably do that, but it would be against the spirit of the punishment and also make for less good content. Doc also doesn’t want to take Cleo’s suggestion of placing blocks to hop or bridge across the ground, but he may build a flying machine. He points out that this whole exercise is voluntary in the sense that the other Hermits can’t exactly force him into the sky, but this is a good way to ensure Cleo doesn’t have a grudge against him for the rest of the season.

48:00 The real problem with this exile is that the Ore Snatcher now has the opportunity to do their terrible deeds unopposed. Doc has seen the messages from YouTube commenters about how some of them are tired of the storyline and want it to stop, but this is a storyline Doc has no control over! It goes however long the Ore Snatcher wants it to, and Doc just has to go crazy on his Skyblock in the meantime. Doc admits he knows it is Cub. Chat is not sure, but Doc is sure. This is in Cub’s wheelhouse and only he would have the dedication. The only think Doc doesn’t know is Why? He hasn’t done anything to Cub this season. He ridicules the outlier theory that he has an evil alter ego and is doing it to himself.

51:00 The only way to stop Cub is to catch him red-handed. Doc thanks subs and donos again, he is getting quite a few but his hype train is still on cooldown. Chat is sympathetic to Doc’s exile and think maybe he should’ve had a better lawyer. Doc discusses the giant baby defense, which was funny but ultimately useless. He admits that hiring Joe was sort of an accident. He threatened Cleo in chat with hiring Joe due to Joe’s convoluted style of argument, and was surprised when Joe jumped in immediately to accept the job. Saying no at that point might have hurt Joe’s feelings, and it cannot be argued that Joe does have a very creative mind. Doc notices some lag on the server and asks Xisuma if he’s running his copper farm. Copper farms put a lot of strain on the server.

57:00 A chatter gives Doc a dono to help offset the emotional distress caused by Skyblock and suggests Doc get his husband to help him out. Doc says Ren has already helped him ((Ren provided him with nine sand blocks and a grass block in Doc’s last episode)). He plants some more saplings, saying his mid-term mission is to get enough wood to not have to worry about it for awhile. He flirts with the single ladies of Chat, then makes it clear that anyone in Chat under 30 should not count themselves as the focus of his flirtation, though men can also count themselves among the single ladies if they would like. He tells the story about the time he went to the sauna when it was Ladies Day and nobody told him and he didn’t realize why there were so many women there.

1:05:40 Doc is losing his mind stuck up on the Skyblock. He also needs to start watching his alcohol choices because yesterday he drank one glass of wine and got a nasty stomachache from it. He drinks so rarely these days he’s got no tolerance anymore. The older folks in chat sympathize. By the time you get to 40, Doc says, there’s hardly any regular casual drinking, you either drink rarely or you’re an alcoholic. He thanks subs and donos again. Doc tells a story about his dad, who had two beers every night for years and who seemed completely chill about it until they were in a situation where he couldn’t get his evening beer and it became clear that he had a real physical dependency on it. Talking to his dad about it didn’t turn out well and his dad was not a good person in general. He has not talked to his dad in about 20 years now. Doc’s grandfather was his male role model and his grandfather didn’t drink at all, which was strange in a village where all the social life revolved around alcohol.

1:14:00 Doc gets distracted by talking about Berliners with very large bottles of alcohol just walking around after work. He’s not a fan. A chatter asks what beer Doc likes and he says he likes the beer Methodz brews but not really anything else. He’s a cocktail guy when he drinks, he likes a gin and tonic with a bit of ice. Doc investigates the “mixed drink” golden carrots that Kerlis gave him, which is reskinned as a pina colada. Doc sings the song and advises Chat not to drink. It’s not really that great. It’s not so much a social lubricant as it just makes people obnoxious. Being a little tipsy at a party is fine, but more is not good.

1:20:00 Doc remembers he wanted to make some bonemeal. He feeds leaves into the composter and collects the bonemeal. He tells the story of a time when he’d been out with a group of couples and they’d all been with their drinks, and one of the women in the group still got roofied. They took care of her and she was safe, but it was weird and scary. Some people are just messed up. A chatter makes a big donation, Doc thanks them and makes a joke about sugar daddies and mommies. He tells a story about going to visit some very wealthy family friends and meeting weird people there. A chatter asks if Ren isn’t Doc’s only single lady on the server. Doc laughs and says Ren is great, and that’s why Ren is his husband. Or wife, or something. He just knows the fans like that sort of thing. He repeats his mini-rant about complicated flags and how the Jolly Roger is the only really good flag. Chat laughs at him and calls him an old man.

1:30:00 A chatter makes a very large donation with a text-to-voice saying “Happy birthday, also Cleo said she’s going to kill your sheep in front of you.” Doc becomes very distracted by all of this. He says this news is bittersweet, with the money and the sheep at the same time. He jokes about how he’s going to max out the donation bar and take a two week vacation to Thailand, except that Karin would kill him. Thailand is great, he assures Chat, but it’s also very expensive and his priorities have changed now that Doccy is around. He describes Doccy sitting on their bed in the morning singing a song about how life is great and it is very cute. He looks at Doccy and all he wants to do is protect them and make sure that they are never afraid ever.

1:33:50 A chatter asks if Doccy is bilingual, Doc says yes, to a certain degree, but they are not trying to teach them specifically. Kids just pick up the language that is spoken to them. A chatter asks if Doccy likes Minecraft yet, but Doccy has minimal screentime yet. Doccy did like the Perimeter and considered it “Home” on Hermitcraft 9. They also knew Decked Out and had a very cute interaction with Dungeon Master Tango. Chat remembers that moment very fondly.

1:37:00 Once you have kids, Doc explains, everything changes, and you don’t want as many things for yourself anymore. He thinks that is why so many dads end up with socks and wallets for Father’s Day, because it’s hard to think of thinks you actually want. A chatter tells Doc that Cleo has been running interference for him with the other Hermits and has stopped several pranks on his Skyblock already, including Skizz killing his sheep. She says she and Doc are friends now. Doc says that Skizz should not be interfering in this punishment, he is a lawyer and it is against his probation rules or bar exam or something like that. Another chatter suggests spreading the love of chickens across the server, Doc would like to do that but he hasn’t managed to get hold of a chicken yet. He looks over the edge, just in case there might be a chicken around.

1:40:40 Now that Doc has bonemeal, he can bonemeal grass blocks and get seed, which he does. He grabs hold of his lead and decides to go down a little ways to see if chickens will appear. He creates a water column and, after being distracted by a dono, heads down the stream. He sees a chicken! The chicken is too far away to respond to his seed, or his pleading and whistling, or him calling it a stupid-ass chicken. Chatters suggest a fishing rod, but Doc doesn’t have a fishing rod. Someone says break his carrot on a stick, but that’s not a thing. He waits through the night and goes back out to get the chicken, already deciding that this is stupid to do on stream and also that Chat is being really unhelpful. A chatter says that using up all the durability on a carrot stick will return a fishing rod, but Doc does not have a pig. If only there were a pig conveniently located just underneath the skyblock and not a pig head sitting in Doc’s base…

1:50:00 Doc drops another water stream and starts sinking. The chicken is still pretty far away. Doc explains to chat that an MLG bucket clutch from a height might save his life but it would count as touching the ground and is still bad. He watches the chicken approaching and is excited until the chicken turns and dives down a ravine. He unnleashes another headphone-killing NOOOOOOO as Chat howls with laughter. There is still another chicken though, and also an egg. He still has a chance, but he is definitely going to fall if he keeps looking at chat. Doc moves the water column and tries again. He laughs at how chat has slowed down and subs and donos paused because everyone is glued to the screen and watching to see if he falls. This time he manages to catch the chicken with the lead and drags it back up the water stream. Doc admits he is sweating. He gets back to the platform and tells everyone they can unclench as soon as he has the chicken at the base.

2:00:00 Doc scoots the chicken around the edge of the base to find a good place to pull the chicken up. After a close call with some lava, he gets the chicken safely tethered to the side of his house. Doc takes a relaxation break and mines more wood, then takes a quick bio-break.

2:06:00 Doc comes back and is momentary bamboozled by chatters claiming the chicken died, but it is fine. A little close to some lava, but far enough to be safe. Doc scolds chat for organizing so quickly to troll him. He goes back to harvesting wood, because you can’t have enough of crappy pink wood. He tells Chat that he knows they are a good audience because the Hermitcraft hermits have spent years brainwashing their audiences into behaving. A chatter asks what happened to the oak Doc was collecting before, he says he got enough apples and oak is much more annoying to grow than cherry, with fewer saplings and sticks and less wood per tree. A chatter says that Hermitcraft is honestly the best TV show on YouTube and Doc agrees. He points out that if you added up all the group views from some of the most popular seasons, they probably did better than a lot of TV shows out there. If they got those views on Netflix, they’d be rich! Netflix needs to come after Hermitcraft. Chat suggests House of Goat for a name.

2:12:00 Doc and Chat bluesky about a Netflix treatment of Hermitcraft. Chatters are torn between a documentary about Hermitcraft and a Minecraft Story Mode treatment of the storylines. Doc concedes that production companies only think in the short term and if they were going to do a show about SMPs, it would be some flash in the pan that blows up, not something that is solid for a decade. And a lot of YouTubers are very young and inexperienced and can much more easily be trapped into bad contracts. Doc is musing aloud about this phenomenon when he notices Pearl is standing on his roof. Chat is very happy to see Pearl.

2:16:50 Pearl asks Doc if he wants to go on an excursion. The events that follow have been documented well (and hilariously) by Pearl in her “Malicious Compliance” Hermitcraft episode and will almost certainly feature heavily in Doc’s next episode as well, so don’t really need to be recapped here. The episode is _very_ worth watching, but the TLDW is that Pearl drags Doc on a llama to see her finished flower shop, Doc is terrified the whole time but not too terrified to take a crack at getting into an ender chest when he has a chance, accidentally shifts while doing so and touches the ground, and then gets blown up by a creeper Pearl accidentally navigates the llama close to. (The llama is fine.) Doc respawns on the skyblock, Pearl gives him back his things and offers to keep the secret, but Chat has already snitched. Pearl feels bad and goes to get Doc a block of moss to make up for it.

2:38:30 A chatter donates for text-to-voice and tells Doc that the shop does not count as “ground,” so no extra time. Doc and Chat are excited by the possibility of a loophole. Some chatters say that blocks Pearl placed count as “ground” and only Doc-placed blocks are “not-ground,” but it’s enough of a theory to hang a possible legal defense on. He decides the best way to proceed is to pretend to still be upset so he still gets the moss block, and to build up his XP again to conceal the fact that he ever died. Pearl comes back and gives him the moss block and wishes him good luck with finding loopholes. She leaves. Doc decides it was overall a good trip because he got an apple, a horn, a moss block, some wither roses and A LOOPHOLE. ((Also some cyan dye, for those keeping score at home.)) He was a little distraught at first, but he thinks this loophole is going to work for him. Chat encourages Doc to write a message to Pearl to keep her from feeling bad about the accident, he writes to her and tells her not to worry, loophole.

2:44:00 Chat argues with itself about the definition of ground and the validity of the loophole. Doc knows that Cleo is going to find out about this eventually and wanted to not be in the position of arguing semantics and the fine points of the rules, mostly because he’s pretty sure Judge Bdubs will solve edge cases by coin toss. Doc is back to regretting his life choices. Pearl dies to a zombie and Doc tuts about it, saying things aren’t really that bad, she doesn’t need to go killing herself over it. Doc’s chest is almost full, he needs to make another one. It’s also extremely chaotic and he misses his storage system. But he has a moss block now, and that is huge. He could make a moss farm. The thrill of skyblock is that any new block he gets opens new frontiers of possibility.

2:50:00 Doc plants more trees and tries to relax as he explains how he accidentally shifted. Pearl pulled him far enough away to close the ender chest inventory just as he was shift-clicking something into his inventory. Without being in an inventory screen, the shift was a dismount command and the rest is hopefully-loopholeable history. Chat is still quibbling with itself about the loophole, but everyone is distracted when “Oh my god HI!” starts playing again and again overhead, and a Hermit arcs in for a landing. It’s Falsesymmetry! Chat is happy to see False.

2:52:30 Doc, who is a ittle on edge after his previous visitor, demands to know what False wants. False plays hurt, saying she hasn’t even been here before and she wants to know what he’s been up to! Doc explains that he can’t trust anyone right now because Pearl just threw him on the ground and it was only his masterful reflexes that allowed him to land safely on some stairs. False is baffled at how Pearl could’ve thrown him on the ground, Doc says it’s a long story. False wishes him a happy 77th birthday, like it says on the cake. Doc, who hadn’t read the sign before, is a bit shocked. False tells him sympathetically that eyesight does get bad when you get old. Doc has to agree with that and says that he’s gotten to the age now where he has to hold things away from himself to read them.

2:54:00 Doc asks False how TwitchCon was, and mentions she met some of the DCP members. She is not familiar with the name, but did meet the artists. One of the artists is in chat and pleased to be remembered, False does the OMG HI horn at them. Doc realizes now that it was a horn and laughs, saying that it didn’t really sound like False and it confused him. She responds with a barrage of OMG HI, both spoken and horn form, that soon has Doc cowering under the trees and Chat yelling along. False remarks that this is great because Doc can’t go anywhere. Doc says it’s not great, but he definitely isn’t going anywhere now after his Pearl “adventure.” He explains that Pearl took him out the way one takes a dog on a walk. False remains baffled, but Doc tells the abbreviated story of the llama walk, leaving out the stair-touch. False thinks this might require additional time added to his sentence, but Doc suddenly redirects the conversation to the possibility of False being the Ore Snatcher. He hadn’t suspected her before, but she could well be!

2:56:40 False thinks it’s Cub. Doc knows it is Cub. False demands to know why he’s blaming her, then! Doc can’t be sure, not until he catches Cub red-handed. He knows it’s not False, though. False wishes it were her, because she could use some diamond ore. Doc tells her that when he gets down, he is going to make the Ore Snatcher everyone’s problem because everyone will be so miserable that they will find the ore snatcher just to appease Doc’s wrath. False points out that this seems like a pretty good case for keeping Doc on the Skyblock and out of the way. She flies away, leaving Doc to grumble that they don’t know he has a record up here, which means MOTIVATIONAL QUOTES FOR EVERYONE! Last season Tango didn’t like the quotes at Decked Out, so Good Guy Doc restricted the range, but no more of that! He might just do an enormous loop of himself whining and play it for everyone on the server. Chat points out that Doc is not beating the giant baby allegations.

3:00:00 Doc demonstrates his most annoying whining techniques. ((The recapper has a brief traumatic flashback to her own preschooler not wanting to go to bed.)) Chat likes this idea, but it might be too evil. Another chatter mentions the gear chest below the Skyblock, but Doc reiterates that it is against the spirit of the challenge. He wouldn’t have gotten wings from the ender chest either, he was mostly fooling around. He has the epiphany that if he can record Doccy whining, that could be very easily weaponized for Hermitcraft. Chat is excited about all this vengeance.

3:03:00 Doc decides it’s time to relax a little and play some guitar. Chat grooves along. He plays some Pearl Jam, then some Alice in Chains. The guitar needs some tuning. He promises one day he will tune the guitar before stream and there will be more music. He takes a minute to tune it a little, then plays a bit more. He plays Wonderwall. Chat is amused. He plays Rocking in the Free World, then realizes he should probably play some Minecraft. He chops more wood. Doc tells Chat he used to be pretty good and know a lot of songs, but if you want to stay good, you have to play regularly.

3:10:00 Doc has been streaming three hours now and is starting to get hungry. He and Chat talk about guitars and about Doc’s plan to create ETERNAL DARKNESS with automated block-placing systems covering the village, the SD and all the bases in cobble. And then there will be the whining as well! And this time he will not be the one cleaning up the prank the way he did with the Perimeter, so there! Oh, and he will blame it all on the Ore Snatcher. He is already claiming to be a baby, this will definitely fit. He thanks subs and donos, makes a slightly off-color joke about satisfying the single ladies, then jokes about forgetting he was streaming. Doc’s hingedness level is clearly dropping the longer he streams today.

3:16:00 Doc gets a brainstorm and looks up the tabs for All the Single Ladies. He tries to play it on the guitar by sight-reading the tab sheet but can’t remember how the song goes well enough. It’s not a very good tab, either. He gets distracted realizing he’s never looked at the lyrics for the verses and is trying to parse the meaning of “Up on him, he up on me” when leaf decay strikes and drops him out of the tree he’d been harvesting. Luckily he was still over his platform, but the near miss means music time is over. Skyblock is no place for distractions! Doc blames the single ladies in the chat and says that if he’d died because he was looking up the lyrics to All The Single Ladies, he never would’ve been able to explain it to anyone.

3:20:00 Chat spots an egg and is very excited about it. Doc collects it and puts it in the chest. He realizes that False has changed the birthday sign to read “Happy 777th Birthday” and changes it to say “Happy 7th Birthday” to go with the big baby theme. A chatter says that they usually watch Ren and it is hilarious how mean Doc’s chat is to him. Chat takes umbrage but doesn’t exactly deny it, while Doc is happy to be vindicated at last! He can’t say too much though, after all these gift subs and donos. He makes a joke about one chatter, Rosie, slipping into his DMs, then realizes he shouldn’t do that because people are still harrassing SubToMumbo on MCCI and making jokes about them being Doc’s alt account.

3:25:00 Ren joins the game and Doc is pleased to see him. Chat is too, declaring Husband Time. A tree grows into the block Doc is standing on and does damage; Doc makes a joke about the tree growing up his ass. Doc sends a message saying he is lonely and asks Ren to hang out. Ren is too busy, he is working on an episode. Doc responds “ok”. Chat is very sad. Doc tells Chat he is not going to guilt trip Ren, he is proud of Ren for really grinding his way through the season so far. Ren might have more episodes done than anyone at this point! Ren also had a really hard time last season and he’s come back strong. He talks Ren’s base up and all the time and effort put in there, then rotates his view enough to take one long, pointed look at Hypno’s house and Wels’ castle, both of which are looking a bit sparse at this point in the season with their builders not around much. But Doc’s not going to point any fingers, obviously! Chat is impressed that even on a Skyblock island with no shadows, Doc can still throw shade.

3:29:00 A chatter asks Doc about getting an ender chest somehow, Doc points out that an ender chest would basically negate the challenge of skyblock entirely. He has lot of things in his ender chest, including the wings that would let him just fly away. He talks with Chat a bit about the importance of pacing oneself, not burning out at the beginning of the server and falling away once the new server energy goes away. He mentions that he’d been considering making a counter diss track for Wels’ rap battle, but had suspected that Wels wouldn’t stick around and it wouldn’t go anywhere. This is the part of the season where it is important to have a long-term plan on what to do for the season, so that even though things arise unplanned, such as court cases and skyblock exiles, Hermits know what they want to do with their episodes. Someone mentions the momentum problems that can arise when Hermits start new side series mid-season and Doc says he doesn’t like that. If it were up to him, all Hermits would work on Hermitcraft only, but honestly side series are good for the YouTube algorithm and good for bringing in new fans. And he may groan a little when a new Life Series game starts and takes attention away from Hermitcraft, but on the other hand he watches it too! In Chat, several chatters confirm that they found Hermitcraft through the Life Series or other side content.

3:35:00 Doc confirms that he would like to join the Life Series and has reached out to Grian about it, but the interest in joining that series is extremely high and it’s hard to pick new people to bring in. Doc understands that, but he does think it would be right up his alley. Chat suggests maybe not upload on Fridays if he doesn’t want to be in direct competition with the Life Series. Third Life got cooked up right when Doccy was tiny and he missed out on the game coming together, and sometimes the timing is just not right. He talks with Chat about MCC as well, he is not sure MCC is for him because he doesn’t want to have to grind to get good first. Chat has mixed opinions about MCC. Most Chatters like MCC best when Hermits are there, which is not terribly surprising.

3:42:40 Doc finds it a little funny that there are people who actually work on honing their Minecraft movement skills to the competitive level, but he realizes he probably shouldn’t talk about who is getting obsessive about what finer points of Minecraft, given the givens. He’s about to talk more about that when he gets jumpscared by the Etho “What’s going on?” horn, followed by Cleo’s “Are you actually kidding me?” horn. He runs around looking for the source and finds Ren flying around under the base. He laughs and calls Ren a bastard. Ren still has to work on his episode but wanted to pop in and say hello. Chat is REALLY happy to see Ren! Ren has uploaded a test version of his project to check sound levels so everything is perfect, Doc laughs at the idea of being so meticulous. Back in Season 8 when they were basing together, the difference between Ren’s meticulous nature and Doc’s “get it done” attitude got pretty comical, but made for great content!

3:45:00 Ren compliments Doc on his base progress. Doc brags on his new moss block and chicken, but says he is now not sure that he needs a moss farm, because people only need wood when they’re are planning on building things. Ren doesn’t catch the ominous note to these words because he is admiring the creeper farm. He like’s Doc’s choice to use pink wood and compliments him on playing Disney Princess Skyblock. He is both impressed and terrified by the cobble farm his gift of sand helped create and decides that the best place to stand is far away from the TNT duper. Doc assures Ren that he will be spared when the big skydome comes down. Ren is also impressed by the idea for the whining torture and suggests that maybe it can morph over time into promises of revenge, five stages of grief style. The server lags a bit and Doc blames Xisuma again. Ren agrees, but shoulders a bit of the blame because he has been part of the reason that so much copper is required this week. He has made something like 500 copper trapdoors to make a giant crane machine for Skulk. Doc reminds Chat to go watch Ren’s new video the moment it comes out. He promises to check and make sure they do it. Ren thanks Doc, then says he needs to go listen to his draft episode on YouTube to check the audio levels. Doc tells him that he is literally the only person in the world who does that. They jokingly scoff together about how quality is worthless on YouTube and in life, the way to get ahead is by scamming and whining!

3:50:00 Ren ruminates how the Disney Sky Island looks so friendly and fluffy when one looks at it, but actually talking to the builder is like talking to Satan himself! Doc tries to guilt Ren into giving him some more stuff, but Ren is pretty intent on following some unspecified rules of Doc Skyblock that include mostly not outright giving him things. Doc says Pearl gave him wither roses and Ren is impressed, pointing out they can be used for several mob farms. Doc is not super interested in mob farms, he just wants to destroy things. Ren asks if Wels is going to be the first target, being so close, but Doc says it will be Cub. There will be flying machines involved, given the distance to Cub’s base. Cleo is second, and after that, who knows? Doc contemplates how Ren used to say “bastards” a lot while playing, and now he is very PG while Doc says “bastard” all the time. Ren laughs and admits he almost didn’t get added to Hermitcraft because he said “bastard” and “ass” too much. He confides that his first regular sign-off for videos was something like “If you don’t subscribe, I’m gonna shove this pick up your ass.” Chat is scandalized. Doc is laughing. He and Ren talk about swearing on camera and YouTube comments, and how commenters somehow get weirdly mad if someone’s style doesn’t stay the same for a whole decade. Doc claims that one day he and Ren will go to South Africa together for a real brai (barbecue). They will livestream it, and at the end they will tell everyone the meaning of life.

3:56:00 Doc and Ren talk a little bit about traveling in Africa, how it is best if you know someone because going as a tourist is a very different experience. You can stay in a hotel and go on safari, but that’s not really Africa. They have another conversation about the single ladies, but Ren refuses to be distracted by talk of single ladies. He has an episode to make! Doc tells Chat that they are not allowed to be Ren’s single ladies right now, this is his stream! He tells Ren to go away and stop distracting Chat. Ren laughs and flies away. Doc scolds Chat for their lack of fidelity, then goes on to decide it would be fun to go with Ren on a date, he’d probably be awkward in that shy good-guy way. Chat is not sure what’s going on, but they are here for it. Doc clarifies that he would like to be a fly on the wall watching Ren on a date with someone else.

4:01:00 A chatter makes a large sub drop, Doc thanks subs and donos. He realizes that his lava pool is full and decides not to make a second level. He flirts with the Single Ladies after reiterating the “only 30+” rule and talks about how he doesn’t believe in marriage because his parents’ marriage was very bad. He doesn’t feel the need for that kind of declaration and the sort of party where everyone is judging it compared to other peoples’ parties. He and Chat talk more about relationships and families. If Karin ever gets sick of him, he supposes he will have to go live in the basement because he could never imagine leaving his family for any reason, marriage or no.

4:09:00 A chatter talks about having pain from being abandoned by their father. Doc commiserates, the same thing happened to him and even before his dad left, his love was very performance-based and conditional. He tells the chatter to try not to worry, that sort of pain does not have to pass through generations. He is a much better father than his father was, because he is consciously trying to be. He talks with Chat about family backgrounds and the things that influence kids growing up. If it hadn’t been for Doc’s grandparents taking him in hand and modeling good behaviors, he probably would’ve ended up a criminal. He tells a story about a scary man in his apartment building growing up, and the first time he punched somebody. The place where he spent his youth was pretty rough, and it got worse after the Berlin Wall came down. Doc has some wild childhood stories that are hard to recap but worth a listen.

4:23:00 Doc moved out on his own when he was 16 to get out of his bad neighborhood, from the money he was starting to earn from basketball. It was a very small apartment but still a lot of freedom for a very young guy. It was also a lot cheaper than apartments are these days. Getting out of his bad neighborhood was good for him and he was lucky to be tall and strong, which helped him get by easier. Doc pulls out to studio view to start winding down his stream. He still visits some of his old friends from his youth and talks with them about the old days. Doc is mad about the European Football Finals but he is not going to talk about the absolute crime of Germany’s quarterfinals elimination. It’s about time to wind up this very long stream. Doc thanks all the subs and donos for being so generous for this birthday stream. He may stream midweek this week, Skyblock is very streamable! He reminds Chat to watch Ren’s new video, raids into Falsesymmetry and ends his stream.

[penvisions]

zest {chapter 1}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Changes are sudden, lifestyles are altered, and important questions bubble up but through it all, you have Joel by your side.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, age gap (joel is mid 40’s / reader is late 20’s -early 30’s, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, death of a loved one, mention of life-threatening cancer, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, mentions of therapy, references to time apart from each other, adult content, smut, piv, unprotected piv be safe y'all!), talk of marriage, adult conversations, joel and reader are down bad for each other.

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || masterlist || ko-fi

It’s the perfect spring day: sun shining in a warm but not hot brightness, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as you zip past them, an iced coffee, and the singing figure of Ellie in the passenger seat all make the first half of the day melt away. The amber of your sunglasses allows for everything to be swathed in the honeyed hue and you smile to yourself as you recall a rather heated comment from Joel ‘that every goddamn show feels so creative ‘n artsy when they slap the same tones over Mexico’ and then a softer set of words as he had cuddled closer to you on the couch ‘it’s not really like that, I’ve been there, darlin’, trust me’.

“What’re you all gooey lookin’ for, Sabrosa?” Ellie pauses to catch her breath between songs from the newest pop punk album from a band you first enjoyed in your teenage years. Unable to resist the temptation of adding it to your already laden down basket at the bookstore last week when you and the young girl had ditched Joel to run errands. “Ew, gross, don’t think about my dad while I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Oh hush,” You stuck your tongue out at her. Getting a kick out of how casually she sounded. It hadn’t ever been awkward between you two, or her and Sarah despite the six or so years between your birthdays. But then again, Sarah had let you into the secret of the older guy she had started seeing in her graduate program the last time she had been in town visiting… “It’s nothing dirty, just one of his many rants about my choice in television.”

“Lemme guess….oh! The washed-out way they show Mexico, huh? Cause you were watching…oh fuck, what’s that show called…”

“Breaking Bad.” Was the supplied answer from your lips as you turned on the turn signal and began to slow down to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. It wasn’t operating hours quite yet, too early yet for the dinner crowd Joel preferred to cater to. But Ellie had a shift, and you were dropping her off after classes. She wasn’t in either of the ones you teach, having completed the two semester course you had started off with. But you both had a class that ended around the same time, living so close to the university, she liked being able to walk but then catch a ride with you. Tradition, the word rang in your head. Routine, followed it and you smiled wider at the way your life had fleshed out.

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed as she unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back in her chair. “Man, I really don’t have the energy for work today, but the old man said we have a full reservation list and then open seating at the bar.”

“Gonna be that way for a while, the article about him came out only two months ago. Everyone’s clamoring for a chance to try the ‘bursting flavors’ and ‘exciting combinations’ of the renowned Chef Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hot shit right now, at least the restaurant is.” Reaching for her coffee in an imitation of you, she sipped at the whip cream, caramel whatever it is she had gotten. Coffee wasn’t her favorite, so she always got the espresso taken out, a glorified milkshake Joel had teased her once. “Proud of him, though. The restaurant was in shambles when he bought it from the previous owners, some shitty Italian place that never cleaned anything.”

“He’s done good.” You quietly agree, sipping from your own overly complicated drink. That was another tradition of yours and hers, to make your way through the menu at the coffee shops on campus, always pausing to get the special of the month. Joel claimed he didn’t understand the need for so much stuff mixed in with coffee, but you caught him stealing sips of yours if he were to come across it unattended around the house or when you were out and about with him and treated yourself.

“There’s my girls.” Joel chimes as you input your code into the gate for the employee parking and round the side of the building. His voice filtering in through the open windows as you pull into a spot and cut the engine. He’s leaned against the back of the building, cigarette in hand. “Was wondering what took you so long.”

“Accident on the main road, had to detour.” You appease as he approaches to open the door for you and pressed a greeting kiss to your cheek as you roll up the windows. He does the same for Ellie as she sidles up beside him for a side hug before trotting off to the door and disappearing through it. He let’s you pluck the lit cigarette from his fingers as you shoulder your bag and close the door. His hand goes around your waist to walk alongside you toward the building.

“As long as you two are safe, that’s all that matters. Today’s special is spaghetti all nerano, wanna do some grading here and try a plate?” He takes the smoking roll back from your offered hand and takes the last drag before tossing it into the pale beside the door. Opening it and leading you through it with a hand hovering over your lower back.

“That sounds yummy, I’m starving.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder before greeting everyone with a wave.

It’s well into the third hour of service and you never got the chance to leave once the doors opened. The bar had been struggling, Millie having taken over as manager and Mary trying to appease the picky impatient customers who all want a taste of the raved over menu and a glimpse at the alluring Chef Miller.

Picking up a shaker and twisting a bottle of vodka in your grip, you glance at the ticket that just printed and adjust the amount you free pour into it. Mary had been looked so guilty as she approached you’re the table where you do your work on a regular basis, the question of if you were willing to help out getting drinks started for those waiting on tables barely out of her mouth before you were nodding and cleaning up your stuff. It was now safely tucked away in the office and you were moving at a fast pace behind the bar to keep up with everything. Millie stepped down to let you take the reigns, knowing she would only get in your way. Ellie could be seen picking up and dropping off glasses at the well as often as Millie as she acted as barback.

The restaurant was buzzing, excited conversation and pleasant atmosphere making you remember the tingling high of getting off from a busy shift with a wad of cash tucked into your pocket. Just as you place a strainer over the shaker and begin to pour the contents over six shot glasses the door to the kitchen swings open and Joel walks through. You’re too busy, so you shift the chilled shots to the mat over the well and place the corresponding tickets beside them. Moving onto the next drink, you rinse out the shaker with the star sink in place.

His eyes catch yours through the crowd of people when you look up as Ellie comes up to take the shots and then watching as she delivers them, the sound of the shaker loud in your ear as you hold it over your head. His steps don’t falter as he approaches the table, he was delivering the plate to, but you could see something flash over his face. He’s back behind the door as you move to lodge the shaker open.

The night goes by quickly, taking orders for those lucky enough to snag a spot at the bar but hadn’t been able to make a reservation. Shoving each cash tip into a pint glass for the girls and even taking a few business cards from people interested in hosting parties in the space. You’ll be sure to pass those along to Mary, even if some of them requested you as the bartender. You didn’t mind, missing the atmosphere and good moments you had experienced in the setting. Ellie is taking back the remaining dishes from the last few tables, Millie is out back smoking after helping to clean up the bar top when Joel ambles from the kitchen once again.

He's got his chef’s coat unbuttoned and loose around the shirt underneath, the glint of his belt buckle catching the fairy lights around the bar. His steel curls are slicked back, but you could see the frizz and fluffiness where they rested over the back of his neck. He had been saying he needed a haircut, but you had made a sound in the back of your throat that made him put it off.

His eyes are trained on you as you move the trash cans full of empty bottles to line up beside the drink pick up area. You’re about to return behind the bar with a wink thrown over your shoulder when he snakes his hands around your waist and pulls you to him. He smells amazing, the perfect mix of savory spices, smoke, and Joel.

“Playin’ restaurant, huh? Thought you went home and passed out.” He leans down to kiss your jawline.

“Nah, Mary asked for my help when Millie got swamped.” You breath out, hands coming up to rest on his chest and push should he get a little too enthusiastic in you still being here.

“Not your responsibility.” His eyes hold no real heat or command, you know it’s born from a place of worry, of not wanting you to stretch yourself too thin.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.” You cradle his cheek in one hand and play with the collar of his open coat with the other. His eyes glance down, the glitter from your lotion catching the light on your neck and chest.

“Hmm, you looked good. Dress looks good on you, shakin’ those drinks and-“

“Dad, holy crap, it was so busy tonight. Some dude tipped me like fifty percent because he was trying to impress his date!” Ellie plops down on a stool with her server’s book. She doesn’t even look up from where she begins to go over the receipts. “Wait until everyone leaves to start doing that or better yet, wait until you’re home to do that.”

“One day you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna be hard to keep your hands to yourself.” You only giggle at the typical parent response from Joel. Ellie wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but you were sure she would be with the right person, you’d seen her flirty interactions with girls while out with you and your friends, tagging along for the free drinks and to have safe company. She was pretty smooth if she didn’t get into her head too much, soft touches to shoulders and waists, though she steadfastly refused to dance. With anyone, no matter the setting.

“Gross,” She begins to fill out the printed shift report before organizing the receipts in order and then asks you for the stapler. Detangling yourself from the man, you do make it back behind the bar. That’s when she notices the pint glass. “Holy shit! You made all that?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The restaurant did. Here.” You hand the wad of bills over to Joel. With your own shift report and stapled receipts. He uses two nimble fingers to extract the shift report but leaves the cash in your hand. Frowning, you track the report as it’s tucked into his back pocket along with Ellie’s. Her own cash tips secure in her booklet.

“Also gonna see about getting some of the petty cash from the safe for the hours you worked.” He begins to take the full bags from the trash cans, tying the ends together tight.

“Joel.”

“You worked, you get paid.” He doesn’t look up as he reaches into the bottom for the rolls sitting inside and begins to place new ones over the lips of the plastic.

“I’m your girlfriend. Who used to work here. I was just helping out.”

“Nope, not gonna fly, darlin’. It’s yours.” He slides the empties cans back around the bar for you to put back in their designated places.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Ellie reaches for it and you let her swipe it from your hand. Only for Joel to set her with a look. “Oooor not.” She says as she puts it down atop the clean bar top.

“Joel!”

“Can’t hear you, Sabrosa, gotta make sure the kitchen duties were done.”

“Seriously, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” You quirk an eyebrow at the younger girl, but Millie bounces up and says everyone was going out for a bite at the taco truck parked a few blocks down. They have a spot in a lot that has picnic tables and offer late night service. Ellie takes off, ensuring you she’ll text either you or Joel when she’s back at the townhouse afterwards. She’d been staying the second bedroom there more and more, as you found yourself splitting your time pretty evenly between it and Joel’s. He would join you sometimes, but certain nights either you needed you own space or he did and that was okay.

Sighing, you lock the patron door behind her and turn the sign from open to closed.

As you’re double checking everything is shut down properly, you open the washer to let the last load of glasses air dry, the steam billowing out. Turning when you hear the swing of the kitchen door again, Joel has his chef’s coat tossed over his shoulder and his backpack over the other. His eyes zone in on the cash and then a smirk takes over his face. You turn your attention back to the washer and ensure it’s off before you round the bar top and makes sure it was swept underneath the stools. You’re about to ask him which car you were gonna take home when you spot a crumpled napkin you must’ve missed.

As you bend down to pick it up, you feel thick fingers sneak beneath the skirt of your dress. You don’t think anything of it until you feel Joel tuck a bill from the stack into the band of your panties. Knuckles grazing against your slit as he moves to the other hip and does the same. You shoot up, the napkin forgotten as you try to turn around.

“Nu-uh,” His palms come to rest on your lower back and shoulders, bending you over one of the stools as the heat of his body looms close. He whispers something about having to scrub the video cameras set up around the dining room before you hear the clink of his belt being undone and feel him move your panties to the side. You throb at the feel of the cooler air circulating around the room, a gasp leaving your lips as he gently runs the head of his cock over your folds, arousal from you both making it such a smooth motion.

As he reaches over your back for something, he fills you up, the stretch of his girth feeling like a reward for the hectic shift completed. But you know the night would’ve ended like this either way.

A moan rips from your chest as he grabs a hold of whatever he had been trying to get, hips flush with yours. He chuckles, pleased with himself before his hands sneak around to cup your breasts as they threaten to spill out from your dress at the prone position. His fingers tuck more bills into your underwear, beneath the straps over your shoulders, into the already full cups to peak out over the swell of your chest. He even tucks one into the mess of your hair thrown up into a clip at the back of your head before his hands secure around your waist and he begins to thrust.

That’s the last memory you have of both smoking and drinking, only a few days before you had anxiously waited for a piece of plastic to tell you your fate. It was now a month since finding out, Joel making sure to go with you to get confirming bloodwork and a full physical. The headaches from missing both finally having abated. Joel on the other hand, he was sneaking cigarettes, you could smell the lingering smoke on him when would come home and you were still up. It didn’t really bother you, knowing he indulged for far longer than you had in the bad habit. But you missed the social aspect of the act, of seeking out the designated spots around campus and chatting, of sitting out on the back patio with Tommy as he enjoyed one on the evenings he stopped by with his own little family for dinner.

But it was all worth it, you mused as you poured yourself a cup of steaming water into what was once your coffee mug. Tea was something you indulged in now, the cupboard filled with the different types you were trying to work your way through to see what would help with the onslaught of nausea and also appealed to your tastebuds. You preferred the fruity ones, just like you did with your cocktails, hence the nickname Ellie had graced you with that stuck.

Jingling keys and heavy footsteps signaled you to Joel’s return, the sun still shining on the calm afternoon. He had been gone when you showed up at his house, a cookout planned for the day. Tommy and Maria had been here an hour, the grill just about ready for the first of many things to be cooked and the pool was sparkling as it awaited the arrival of Sarah and Ellie. You had spent the morning cleaning it of debris and adding a few treatment drops. The whole family getting together. It was good, it was a good feeling being surrounded by them all. You and Maria hitting it off even more over the news of what was to come. Her own child now nearing two, she had given birth while you and Joel were split. But you had sent a care package and visited her in the hospital with her favorite takeout.

It was so domestic, so full a life…it made you wonder why you hadn’t been able to experience it as a child yourself.

“Missed ya, darlin’.” Joel steps up behind you and embraces you. Kissing your temple, you feel the frown mar his lips as you don’t respond. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his chest. He smells like cinnamon and the grill brick he used while closing up the restaurant after a brunch shift and you breathe him in as you press your face into his broad chest.

“Gotta shower, wanna join me?’

“The girls will be here soon.” You hold him tighter, missing your own family even if it had never been the same as his own. Dinner once a month with your own father, no visits offered or initiated, grandparents raising you since you were young. A mother who had passed early due to complications from cancer she hadn’t known she had until she was pregnant with you herself. “Wanna make sure everything is ready for them.”

He peppers kisses into your hair before pulling away and disappearing upstairs.

The afternoon continues, the smell of grilling meat and roasting vegetables lilting into the air alongside ruckus laughter and bad jokes. Everyone is comfortable around the patio and the in the pool, food served and consumed. Just a few bites left of everything, Joel ensuring you that he would heed your cravings and what you felt like you could stomach, not worried about leftovers lately.

“So when do we get to meet the rest of the Sabrosa clan?” Tommy askes around the lip of his beer bottle. He’s across from you at the table, Joel off by the grill as he messes with something he hadn’t let you sneak a peak at.

“Oh, um…you don’t?” Caught off guard, the bite of food falls from your plastic fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“No siblings or nothin?”

“Um, well-“ Clearing your throat you take the bite and chew it contemplatively. Honesty or the thinly veiled truth? Your mind is working hard, something Maria must hear in her seat beside you at the patio table. She shoots Tommy a look you catch out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep calm so the child in dozing in her arms doesn’t stir. “I’ve got two half-siblings, but we don’t keep in contact much.”

“They gonna be at the wedding?”

“What wedding?” “Oh my god, dad! You proposed and didn’t tell us!” Ellie and Sarah holler from where they’re in the pool, one of them resting on a floating device and the other is practicing her laps to get more comfortable in the water. Joel turns from where he was ensuring the grill was off and brings over the s’mores dip he had just let melt to perfection. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the gooey swirl of marshmallow and dark chocolate, of the rye biscuits he must’ve whipped up at work steaming beside it in a single use tin. Set up with a divider in the middle.

“Haven’t proposed to ‘er yet, quit it.” He sits it down atop a trivet, but no one makes a move to reach for it until he gives the go ahead. But he doesn’t until he’s got one of the dark biscuits covered in the dip and set in front of you. Then it was fair game as the girls begin to swim across the length of the pool, or well Sarah tries to glide her floaty across while Ellie does. Tommy readies one for Maria before making his own, quirking an eyebrow at you as he watches the pull of the dip.

“But your dad is gonna walk you down the aisle, right?” Tommy presses on, not catching onto the awkward way you were shifting in your seat or how you had placed your fork down to rest on the edge of your paper plate. The dessert untouched. But you don’t get to think of an answer before one is flying from your emotionless face.

“Can’t, he’s dead.”

Silence falls over the once happy and jovial backyard, the splash of Sarah slipping from her floating longue echoing.

“Tommy.” Joel’s voice is firm as he pins his brother with a mild glare. Maria is equally unpleased with her husband’s penchant for talking without thinking, not reading the room. He yelps as she kicks his shin underneath the table.

“It’s okay, wasn’t much of a father when he was alive anyway.” You reach for the mocktail you had made a pitcher of for you and the girls to enjoy. No one says anything as you pour yourself another and take a sip from it. Not liking the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, you gather up your nearly empty plate and stack it atop Maria’s to take inside, making more room for the messy dessert. Slinking away, you feel Maria reach out a hand to trail down your arm, comforting you before you’re gone back into the house.

“You dumbfuck.” Ellie mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Joel over his shoulder for her language. But he doesn’t disagree. You do, but it wasn’t his fault. How was Tommy supposed to know he had picked the one subject you had nothing good to say about?

“Shit, I- holy shit.” Tommy’s voice follows you before he yelps a second time as Joel brandishes the still warm tongs from serving biscuits.  

“Way to shove your foot in your mouth, we were havin’ a good time.”

“I didn’t know! I thought she was just quiet about her family not that she didn’t have any.”

“Tommy, you’re the father of my child and my husband but you are seriously so stupid sometimes.”

“Dad, she-she doesn’t have any family?” Sarah is tearing up, affected by the sudden realization of why you never brought anyone around except for a friend every once in a while. She could understand not having a mother, as her own was so distant, only showing up when she needed something or felt lonely in the life she created for herself. But to not have a dad? That was all she knew and she couldn’t fathom how her life would have been without him in it;.

“She’s got us, baby girl.” Joel goes to run a hand over her shoulder and press a kiss to the fluff of her kinky curls as she stands beside the pool set into the ground outside the patio. He wraps the towel she brought out around her and rubs it across her shoulders before lifting his hands. “We’re her family, pretty good deal, huh?”

“Dad….”

“She’ll be okay, I promise.”

The laid back vibe from the afternoon returns once everyone piles into the living room to watch the season finale of an admittedly awful reality tv show. But everyone was hooked and harmless bets were made on who would cause the most drama and how things would end. You’re a little subdued, but you make comments along with everyone else and laugh at the absurdity of what happens on the screen.

Stepping out of the bath you had decided to soak in, you startle when you see Joel sat on the small bench in the master bathroom across from the vanity as you pull back the shower curtain. He’s already changed into his sleep pants, his freckled and bronzed chest on display through the steam.

“Darlin’, why didn’t you tell me your dad was passed?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” You stand in front of him, taking in the way he watches you through the mirror as you press a bead of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and wet it before popping it into your mouth. A heavy silence fills the room, tangling with the rose scented steam from the bubble bar you had used. The pink water swirling down the sink a near silent hum.

“It-uh, kinda does. Makes me feel…like a whole wedding would be…”

“You don’t have to ask me. We don’t have to get married if it’s going to be a problem.” Shoving down the worries and residual guilt of being raised in a certain religious culture at the thought of having a child out of wedlock, having a child as a single woman you catch the man’s gaze through the mirror. The burn of embarrassment simmers beneath your skin, shame for feeling such embarrassment sparkling behind it, creating a swirl of emotions you hadn’t wanted to feel this close to bed with an early class. You want to marry him, to experience that with him, to live life together as husband and wife, but it feels perfunctory when you didn’t even believe in the reasoning behind why you felt that way. He’s frowning, his brows knit close together, something off in the depths of his brown eyes.

“It’s not a problem…right?” You see the worry flickering through him, in the way his eyes shift and the way he clenches his fists in his lap. “I just…you know you’re a part of the Millers. Have been since the moment you caught my attention, but baby…I don’t want you to feel lonely if it’s my family and your friends.”

“Are you insinuating because I don’t have a family of my own, I’m somehow missing something?” Anger flared hot and sticky in you, washing out the embarrassment. The heat from your bath making it so much worse and you cross the room to pull the door open. Back at the vanity, you ignore his gaze and rinse out your mouth before moving on to clean and moisturize your face. He’s quiet behind you, knowing he phrased his sentiment wrong and this…this communication was new for you both. Still hard sometimes as you both realize how deep some things run and how different you could be.

“You know I’m not.” The gaze he has trained on you reminds you of the way he would watch you through the kitchen, tensions high as you both couldn’t seem to get your heads out of the dirt and just be honest with each other. A time that had passed, allowing for the present to bloom.

“Then a wedding wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s kind of moot, you haven’t proposed.” You don’t anticipate the slight edge to the words as they leave your lips, but they slice through the air. You feel shame overtake the waning anger, making your face hot underneath your massaging hands. The burn of tears threaten to ruin the routine you just completed and you hiccup as your hands flatten atop the vanity, head hanging between your shoulders. You do not like this, but you have no idea where it’s coming from. It really doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t asked. You know he has the intention to, the agreement of a visit to town hall and then a small party to celebrate. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, simple.

“Hey,” He whispers as he comes up behind you, hands resting over the quick beating of your heart, his naked chest pressed to your back, the damp towel the only thing separating you. But you can feel his own heart between your shoulder blades, strong and sturdy. Grounding you in the way you had explained you preferred when overwhelmed. “I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you, just want you to be comfortable, to have everything you deserve.”

You let him help you to dry off the rest of your body, lotion lovingly applied to your body by his hands before you slip into a nightgown and slip between the sheets beside him. You kiss an apology to his lips, needing him to know that it was just initial panic and not the real way you thought or felt. He accepts it and offers one of his own, lips pressed to your chest, right over your heart before sleep takes ahold of you both.

“I said don’t.” You warned, no humor in your voice. You had tried and failed to put on every one of your pairs of pants, jeans, leggings, and none of them were comfortable. None of them zipped, buttoned, or stretched enough underneath the slight bump that had seemingly blossomed overnight. Joel was sprawled on the bed, working his way to getting up at the late hour. He had been at the restaurant late, later than usual as they had a party stay well after service hours. He had let the staff go on time, ensuring they would get the tip out but not wanting them to have to stay once all the cleaning and side work was done. One of the many things you adored about the man, his willingness to heed situations like that in favor of his staff even if he was gruff and to the point most of the day.

“Didn’t say nothin’, darlin’.” He rumbled from beneath the sheets, tan skin looking deliciously golden paired with the pale pink set you had insisted changing from the white that had previously been curled around the mattress. You had woken up with bad cramps last month, terrified something had happened as you pulled back the covers to find blood spotting the pristine fabric. A quick trip the emergency room as he shared in your panic, albeit in a more controlled way, assured you that spotting was normal during the early months of pregnancy.

“Dress...” You muttered to yourself, hand cradling around the small bump. Joel only hummed, stretching out to alleviate his sore body, thick legs appeared from beneath the fabric. Your eyes traced the long lines of his body through the mirror atop the dresser, drinking in the sight of him and your body began to thrum with arousal. When your eyes roved up the expanse of his broad chest dusted with dark hair to his face, he was smirking at you with an eyebrow arched in a silent question of how long you would ignore his deliberate departure from the bed.

You had all but jumped him when he got home last night, papers you were grading scattered all around you on the couch and coffee table, a Josh Gates show on the television for moral encouragement. He had teased you once about your affinity for the man but you had clapped back with his borderline obsession with Anthony Bourdain, to which he simply said ‘can’t help it darlin’, the man knew his shit’.

The dinner he had brought home had been tossed to the entry way table, as you knelt down to help remove him from his shoes and pants. Mouthing at the line of him through his boxer briefs before he could even get his keys hooked on the mirror over the table. He had been prepared to find you fast asleep, a different kind of tired taking hold of you more and more, almost demanding naps during the day when you got home from campus and right before dinner if you hadn’t worked. But you had sprung up from your spot and welcomed him home, the food forgotten in favor of getting your fill of the man that had been consuming your thoughts. The thought makes his cock fill, twitching underneath the sheets as he recalls your enthusiasm.

He sees the way your eyes dilate at the movement, the hush of his hand skimming down to grip himself.

Suddenly, you’re no longer debating over the clothing flowing from the draws inside the closet or those of the dresser. You peeled the pants you had been fruitlessly trying to zip up and nearly threw yourself at him. He greedily accepts your frantic kisses, starting from his shins and all the way up neck to finally connect with his own. He groans at the taste of coffee you had allowed yourself this morning, his own cup still steaming on the bedside table. His glasses beside it, his cellphone lighting up only to be ignored.

“Does mama need some attention?” He breathes into your open mouth, large palms caressing the exposed skin of your hips. His hands graze your middle, and you shy away from him, self-conscious of the extra jiggle, the stretchmarks from rapid weight fluctuation of your years now accommodating the swell of the beginning signs of the life you two had created together. “Hey, no, c’mere.”

You’re sure he sees the flicker of emotions across your face before you school it into a cool arch of your brow, the playful smirk of your lips. Falling back on bravado that wanes far too quickly these days as your hormones ping pong all over the place. You were just as apt to burst into silent tears as you were to jump him, confusing for you and devasting for him as he tries to read your moods as well as he can. He was hoping to dislodge the habit of you seeking refuge in the townhouse you had gifted Ellie, her own budding relationship prompting her to ask for her own space just as the new stage of your life became known to them. Equal parts of respect for the more tender and tense moments sure to happen and yearning for her own space again.

“Mama needs some new clothes, wanna spoil me?” Your voice is a confident hush, hands reaching forward to urge him to shift closer, both of you on your sides and facing each other.

“Do anythin’ for you, darlin’, you know that.” His teeth sunk into the curve of your neck, tugging you back to him. That seemed to get you to forget your insecurities as he felt you pull him closer, your smaller hands so soft on his chest as they caressed his skin.

“I think I wanna go to that fancy mall, maybe get some pretty underwear that won’t make me feel like a total loser.”

“I’ll take ya anywhere you want, maybe even that big shopping center in Dallas? It’ll be just like the trip we took to Arizona. Could get a hotel, see the sights and just relax. Hear they have a mac and cheese restaurant in the arts district.” He rolls to pin you down, and you move to allow him space between your legs instinctually. Body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck, your chest, he lets his words sink in. The bralette you had put on doing nothing to hide the perk of your nipples. He laps at them through the thin fabric, delighting in the way it makes you arch up into him. You were so sensitive to his touch lately, your body on high alert as your hormones fluctuate erratically.

“That’s a lot, Joel. Shouldn’t we-“ Your hesitant words are cut off by a searing kiss, the press of his skin against yours making it hard to keep your train of thought.

“We should do what we want, darlin’. Wanna get everything sorted to go this weekend?”

Tears are suddenly pitter pattering over the sheets, darkening the fabric where they land after rolling down the sides of your face. He pushes his weight from where it pressed you to the bed, back on your sides and you let him, unable to stem the tears.

“Oh hey, hey it’s okay,” Joel crowds close, the thin fabric separating your bodies as you bury your face in his neck and curl your legs up, knees pressing into his stomach. Hiccups startle you both as you find it suddenly hard to breath through the onslaught of emotions spiking. “Hey now, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into his skin, embarrassment flaring up hot in your cheeks and chest. You feel so silly, pulled in too many directions in so quick a succession. “I just…you’re so hot and I’m all bloated and my skin feels all tight and I really want some ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re happily spooning a sundae into your mouth with a red plastic spoon in the passenger seat of his truck. All the tears and frustration gone from you as you held tight to the treat in your hands with far too many flimsy napkins. He’s got a cigarette dangling from the hand he rests on the inside of the door, trying to keep as much smoke from wafting back into the cab as possible. Errands, today was an errand day and you smiled over at him. Pairs of sunglasses meeting, eyes hidden beneath them. He just leans over to press a kiss to your temple, not wanting to disrupt your enjoyment of the ice cream you literally cried over.

next chapter

taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77 @koshkaj-blog @corazondebeskar-reads @ozarkthedog @littlemisspascal @endlessthxxghts @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @sawymredfox @cumberpegg @grandanchorkitten @noisynightmarepoetry

@regalwhovianbrowncoat774

@pazizz

[stormyelliotwritez]

hehehehheehehehehehehehe yes

FRUITY FOUR WITH FTM!READER S/O’s

I love this so so much and I’m so obsessed with these

Steve with a ftm!s/o

He has no idea what you’re talking about at the start

After talking to Eddie and looking up some stuff, he goes full on mama bear like he finds safe ways for you to bind and he pulls you out of situations that make you dysphoric

He gives you his clothes and not just ones he doesn’t want. This man gives you full access to his wardrobe and he doesn’t even get annoyed when you steal stuff for ages

He spreads rumors about people who are transphobic to you and makes them stop and he acts clueless when you bring it up

He makes sure to affirm you all the time by calling you male oriented pet names like handsome and pretty boy

He’s such a sweet boyfriend and he’ll cook dinner when you’re feeling down and let you stay over whenever you want

He makes an effort to not stare at your boobs when you’re having a non-binding day though sometimes he does but he assures you that you’re a guy in his eyes

He’s very touchy and he’s always attached to you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear that normally involve stuff like you’re such a strong man and you’re the hottest guy I know

Nancy with a ftm!s/o

She doesn’t even notice at first and when you bring it up, she nods and then keeps working on whatever she was working on

After you go home, she does a whole bunch of research or at least as much as you can do in the 80’s and writes down how she can be most helpful

She gets Jonathan to help her find you guy clothes and she gives them to you and said that she was just thinking of you as if she wasn’t obsessing over helping you for ages

She gets so worked up over helping you but won’t show it

She’s good at comforting when people make you feel like an outcast (coz of the whole slut era)

She calls you your preferred name like all the time and doesn’t use pet names much

She invites the guys over to hang out a bunch because she wants you to feel comfortable as a guy and she tells Mike he can go to you for guy problems

Robin with a ftm!platonic s/o

Shes always near you and she deathstares people who think either of you are weird

She rambles a lot about how cool of a guy you are and how you’re an even cooler guy than Steve sometimes which is saying something

She didn’t even blink when you told her and then she was immediately like I’m a lesbian and I thought you were a hot girl and now you’re a cool guy and she rambles for a bit

She helps you cut your hair if you hadn’t already because she cuts her own and so she knows what she’s doing

She steals your clothes like all the time and gives you her mascish ones to borrow

She wants to introduce you to the guys now that you know you’re a guy and she loves seeing how happy you get

She rambles when you feel dysphoric and bleh so that you can take your mind off it

Eddie with a ftm!s/o

He blinks twice like a cat when you tell him and then immediately starts calling you a guy and his boyfriend if you’re already dating

He lets you borrow his clothes and especially his vest and he takes you shopping

He gets you to play dnd and he makes you the most masculine character ever like muscles and he’s a rogue or something

He invites you to his gigs and says sappy shit like this song is dedicated to my handsome fucking boyfriend

He’s so so so touchy and reaffirms like all of you. he’ll say stuff like your jaw is so so masculine and you have such strong shoulders and hands bigger than his and hes so touchy and runs his hands all over you

He rants at people whenever they act shitty towards you and makes sure all the attention is on him

He’s such a good boyfriend and he doesn’t always understand why you feel dysphoric and bleh coz he thinks you’re the hottest guy alive but he tries his hardest to understand for you

[sprunkimortality]

What do every Sprunki think of Gray?

Oren: "He's chill, bro. He's got good taste in music." Raddy: "Eh. He keeps out of my space and I keep out of his." Clukr: "According to my observations, Gray is a rather stoic individual. His lack of physical expression betrays his ability to feel emotions, and he can be quite hard to read at times. I can only make guesses as to how he feels based on context clues." Fun Bot: "Oh, Gray! He requests interesting songs from his favorite bands! It's always a new experience when he comes up to ask me to play something!" Vineria: "We're at similar wavelengths. Our auras blend well."

Brud: "Gray? Me like Gray! Gray is friend!" Garnold: "Gotta say, the kid's got interesting artistic interpretations of robotics. I didn't even know what divine machinery was until I heard him go through a whole rant about it! He's a cool one, I'll tell you that." OWAKCX: "G- Gray…oh, well, he- …h-he doesn't really…um…w- we don't…talk that much, you know? Hoohoo-! S- So, I, I- I don't know much about him, eh…e-except the fact that h- he wears the same shirt every day, hoho…" Sky: "Gray is so cool! He's got edgy makeup, edgy clothes, edgy music, everything's edgy! I want to be cool like him!"

Mr. Sun: "Ah, our very own Neutral Sprunki! There's a charm to his poker face that only he can pull off!" Durple: "Ahaha! You speak of my deadpanned companion? I've known him since we were Sprunklings! We were both losers without friends or anyone to chitter with at lunch, you see. Except I, in my ever-present radiance, was spared by the hells of torment he had to go through during those highschool years! That's not to say I condone it, no no no. I am HIGHLY against treating our very own emo boy with such exclusionism!" Mr. Tree: "I have been with him for every rest he takes every day in the afternoon. He brings peace to this bright and colorful town." Simon: "Well gee, Gray's one of my greatest friends! He's responsible and he always knows what to do in even the scariest situations! Don't tell him this, but…he's like a big brother to me! Yeah, we're the same age and unrelated but I don't care! He's big bro Gray to me!" Tunner: "Th' lad's in his own lil' world sometimes. He's a good kid. Never gets into any sorta trouble. Don't got a clue about the things he rambles on about sometimes, but I ain't gon' stop 'im whenever he does that. It's his passion."

Mr. Fun Computer: "He may not look like it, but he knows how to have fun in his own way! He visits me a lot! Though, he usually doesn't use my search engine or anything, like everyone else would. He just likes to come by and have conversations with me. It's nice!" Wenda: "So, like, big backstory dump, but…I actually hated Gray's guts. I dunno why. I was an evil kid! Like, so evil. I shoved him in the hallway and called him dumb and fat and whatever. Real talk, I was so mean to him. So like, him forigivng me was like, SUPER surprising. Like, what do you mean you forgive me?? Sure I regretted it and I apologized to his face but I didn't think he'd actually be, like, cool with me now! Anywayy. We're buddies now. We hang out and all that, soooo yeah. Happy ending! I hope." Pinki: "Gray is such a sweetheart! He helps me out at the bakery sometimes, even though he doesn't like having to deal with cooking oil…I really appreciate it whenever he comes by to help!" Jevin: "Within that anti-expression he wears, Gray is a Sprunki with passions to share."

Black: "He's not too bad, I suppose." Saves: "Sorry, who is…? Ah, yes! The horned one with the dirty shirt…ah, I remember now. Gray…he's so kind and generous. He is the same one who visits me every weekend, isn't he? Yes…he helps around the house. We tell stories to each other. He's precious." Ciqu: "He abides. I have no strong opinion of him." Sprinkles: "Heehee! Gray is fun! He takes care of me and Sky sometimes! He's like a big brother, but he doesn't have any little siblings…which is a bit sad, because he's fun as a brother!" Calvin: "Gray is super cool. And also fun to play pranks on! He doesn't get mad, so it's a little funny!" (edit 12/8/24: X FORGOT CIQU...XM SO SORRY MR POLICEMAN....)

[bad268]

i absolutely love your arvid fanfics!!

I was wondering if you could make a Arvid x female!reader where it’s the readers birthday 15 16 idc what age she is turning) and her and Arvid where best friends. He asks to be her boyfriend at the party. You can change it up if you like!!

Birthday Bitch (Arvid Lindblad X Birthday! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (had to make em legal) (Also, in honor of my birthday tomorrow <3)

Warnings: Aged up Arvid, language, Song referenced: Birthday Bitch

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1914

Summary: The reader's birthday doesn't mean much to them, but Arvid has the best idea.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You were not too fond of your birthday. It’s not that you hated your birthday! It’s just that you never saw it as a reason to celebrate. Your parents instilled that it was just how time works, and you didn’t want to celebrate the passage of time. You also wouldn’t tell anyone about your birthday unless they asked you. That included your best friend.

“Are you ever gonna tell me your birthday?” Arvid asked you from where he was lying on your lap as you played with his hair with a movie playing in the background. It was one of his rare weekends off, and he wanted to spend every minute with you. You were more than accommodating, taking a few days off to stay by his side. 

“Two days ago,” You replied simply as you continued mindlessly running your fingers through his hair and scrolling on your phone.

“You told me two days ago?” he snapped up with his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you skeptically. “I don’t remember anything from two days ago other than the fights all day, but even when you picked me up, you just let me rant the entire ride home. Unless you slipped it in there when you talked about your work, but I don’t remember-”

“No, silly,” You chuckled as you slapped his arm lightly, “My birthday. It was two days ago.”

“The day I came home?” He asked, watching you nod in response before raising his voice, “And you didn't say anything?!”

“Didn’t have a reason to,” You laughed lightly, going back to your phone but briefly looking back at Arvid, who was staring at you wide-eyed. “What?”

“You didn’t have a reason to tell me I’m a bad friend for doing nothing for your birthday?” He started ranting as he spiraled, “Or that I’m horrible for not getting you anything? Or that I’m an asshole for not even wishing you a happy birthday? What kind of a best friend am I?”

“Because it doesn’t matter?” You offered for a reason as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t care about my birthday, so why would I bother with giving you a hard time for something I really don’t give a shit about?”

“Okay, okay,” Arvid surrendered, “But would you be mad if I did something for your birthday? Just something small? Just us? I’d feel bad otherwise.”

“If that’ll help you sleep at night,” You sighed, going back to your phone as Arvid got up and headed for the door. This made you look up and pout at him, “Wait, where are you going? I thought we were hanging out today?”

“I have to go plan! I have to make it perfect,” Arvid rushed as he grabbed his keys and left before you could respond. 

The next morning, you woke up to a text from Arvid saying he would pick you up around noon. Given that it was already almost noon, you sighed, climbing out of your bed. You had barely gotten dressed when the doorbell rang. You groaned before walking over, taking the deadbolt off, and unlocking the door. 

“It was bold of you to think I would be up and ready by noon,” You said immediately, not looking at Arvid as you wiped your eyes. “I just barely got up.”

“Oh no,” He replied sarcastically, pushing his way through the door. “If only your best friend knew this and brought your favorite drink and pastry for that one place you like so much. If only you had a friend who knew you so well that also brought your favorite hoodie.”

“You did not,” Your attention finally landed on the backpack Arvid was carrying, as well as the paper bag and two cups in his hands. You reached out to take one of the cups and gestured for the backpack. “You are a godsend!”

“Turn around and close your eyes,” Arvid tsked briefly, “You didn’t think I brought a whole backpack for just a hoodie, did you? I have a plan.”

“You’re doing too much,” You chuckled as you obeyed his words without much complaining. “You know I would much rather just-”

“Just sit on the couch, watch a movie, eat junk, and chill,” He finished off for you, causing you to turn and face him in shock slowly. He held out the hoodie as he gave you a pointed look. “I know you too well. Now go change into the hoodie and whatever comfortable clothes you wanna wear, but don’t come out of your room until I tell you.”

“How did I get so lucky with you?” You teased before heading into your room to change. You also took this time to brush your hair and teeth. Just as you were about to do your skincare routine, a sheet mask was slid under the door. You laughed, picked it up, and saw a sticky note on it. 

I hope this doesn’t have anything that’ll fuck up your face. I kinda like it -Arvid

You chuckled to yourself before going back to the mirror and putting the sheet mask on. Then, you went back to your room, laid on your bed, and scrolled on your phone. You could hear Arvid moving around your living room and knocking some things over in the process. You stopped scrolling for a second, trying to make out what he was doing before deciding to just call Arvid. Not outloud, just deciding to call him on your phone.

“Why are you calling me from your room?” Arvid snapped as soon as the call connected. You could hear him breathing heavily as he continued moving around the room. 

“I got bored, and it sounded like you were destroying my living room,” You chuckled as you heard him curse about something. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He sighed, “It’s just been a while since I’ve done this, so I’m struggling a bit.”

“What are you even doing?” You asked, sitting up in the bed and listening intently for anything that could tell you what he was doing.

“Mind your business, bitch,” Arvid chuckled, “It doesn’t concern you!”

“It kinda does,” Your voice pitched up, “You’re doing this in my apartment.”

“Stop complaining! I’m trying to do something nice!” He shouted, and you heard it more throughout the halls than on the call.

“I’m not complaining! I just wanna know what's going on-” You stopped talking as the time for your face mask went off. “Pause. I need to take the mask off.”

“Already?!” He shouted before you heard him scrambling around. “I thought I had at least 15 more minutes.”

“How long do you think face masks are supposed to be on?” You question slowly as you moved into your ensuite.

“I thought I had at least 40 minutes,” Arvid complained before going into a rant about how he doesn’t understand skincare at all.

“Babe,” You cut him off with a smile, “The packaging says how long to keep it on. Certain ones can take longer, but some dry out after 20 minutes.”

“That’s crazy,” Arvid said to himself while you rinsed your face off. “You can come out now. I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to distract you or make this any better. I’ll come let you out now.”

“Let me out?” You asked right as he hung up the call. You walked back over to the main door of your room to see Arvid standing there with a chair off to the side. “Did you barricade me in my room?”

“Surprised you didn’t notice,” Arvid chuckled before pulling you out of the room and covering your eyes. You brought your hands up to hold at his forearms to steady yourself as you walked in step with Arvid through the hall.

“You told me not to come out, so I didn’t,” You chuckled as you continued walking until Arvid stopped abruptly. You would have fallen if it weren't for his hands still over your eyes. “A warning would have been nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He tsked as he started pulling his hands away before slapping them back against your face. “Keep your eyes closed until I tell you, got it?”

“Is this where I get killed?” You asked, squeezing your eyes closed. Arvid pulled his hands away and walked away without saying anything. Your face dropped, wanting to open your eyes to see him, but you just stopped squeezing your eyes so tightly. “No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel.”

“I’m not killing you,” He scoffed in disbelief as you heard your speaker being turned on. “Just give me a minute.”

“If you start playing the happy birthday song on blast, I’m going to murder you.”

“Now, who’s making it to the sequel?” Arvid mocked as he pressed play. “Open your eyes.”

You obeyed, taking everything in as Birthday Bitch by Trap Beckham played in the background. Arvid had built an elaborate blanket fort over your couch and TV, and there were balloons and a small cake on the coffee table inside. There was also popcorn and your favorite takeaway inside. You chuckled to yourself before looking over at Arvid, who stood off to the side, swaying and lip-singing the words.

“Something small, my ass, Arvid,” You laughed before pulling him into the fort. Then, you saw he set up a fan inside and had your newest obsession paused on the TV, ready for you to start watching it. “You are…I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“Then, let me start,” Arvid said as you sat on the sofa and he kneeled in front of you.

“If you go into some sob paragraph before ending it with a happy birthday,” You gave him a pointed look, “please save it.”

“No, not a sob paragraph,” He laughed. “Do you know want to know why I put so much effort into this?”

“I assume it’s because we’re friends,” You answered, “but even then, no one has ever put this much thought into me.”

“Exactly! We’re friends, best friends, right?” Arvid trailed, gesturing for you to agree.

“Yeah,” You dragged out, wanting to see where he was going with this.

“This is my application out of the friend zone.”

“If this is you saying you want to start dating,” You started, looking for any indication that you were on the right path. Arvid’s face lit up, so you knew you were right. “That is the funniest and cutest way anyone has ever asked me out.”

“So. is this you agreeing to go out with me?” Arvid asked as he held your hand in his.

“This is me accepting your application,” You chuckled before pulling him up to the couch with you. “And this is me immediately promoting you to boyfriend if you accept the new roles and responsibilities.”

Arvid’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly, keeping up with the shenanigans. “Well, what would it entail?”

“Just a little more of a time commitment, attendance at weekly company meetings, and sometimes work travel,” You replied seriously, “And don’t let the meetings scare you away. They’re pretty flexible.”

“Where do I sign?” Arvid smirked, leaning closer.

“A verbal agreement is just fine,” You teased, leaning closer as well.

“Well then, I think it’s time we seal the deal.” And without further comments, Arvid closed the remaining space between you, planting his lips firmly on yours.

~~~~~

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